


Family

by YIWT



Series: Rehabilitation [3]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 65,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YIWT/pseuds/YIWT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is loyal to Thor.  He knows it, because he was subjected to brutal torture in order to prove it.  But he also has roots in Jotunheim now.  He tries to find his place.</p>
<p>This takes place after Rehabilitation (long torture epic) and the one-shots Thor's Queen and Helblindi.  It won't make sense without having read them first.  (Or skimmed them, if violence is a problem for you.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**(A/N:  Loki will have emotional troubles in this story, but as of now I don't think he'll be sent to a dungeon again. However, the story will contain torture scenes. I'll warn for them, as usual.)**

***************************************************

 It was possibly the most enjoyable birthday Thor had ever known.  He had cleared up all his work in the morning, and then Loki had taken him to swim in a fantastic waterfall (in what realm, he had no idea), and now, back home, a feast to end all feasts was unfolding.

There were many toasts, and he was very drunk.  There were many women, and after the more distinguished guests had departed to leave only the young and rowdy, one of them was now pressed up against him murmuring slurred nothings into his ear.  He was just about to propose that he take her to his rooms... when he remembered that they were no longer exclusively his.  

“Brother.”  As if reading his mind, Loki was suddenly  _there_ , close to his other ear. “Give me five minutes.”

So Thor pushed her against a column and kissed her throat, and kept her there for a while.  When he finally led her upstairs, the place where the bedroom should have been was now a corridor with two doors at the end, which were ornately decorated with red and green stones.  He took a moment to admire Loki's work before pushing open the red door and carrying the woman inside.

***************************************************

Loki sat outside in the snow, hugging his knees, watching the swirling white wind.  He was a little drunk, which perhaps explained why had gotten so emotional over redecorating their bedroom a few moments ago.  He had erased all traces of himself – vanishing his clothes and pillows, covering over bookcases with weapons racks, replacing sheets that smelled of his nightmare-sweat.  He'd disguised the room and then made himself a dummy door that led to nothing, in case Thor's companion thought to wonder where Loki went when he and Thor vanished down the same hallway each night.

He doubted that she would wonder, though.  Nobody ever wondered about Loki. Or would miss him.

The sudden tightness in his chest made him laugh aloud. “Idiot,” he said fondly.  It was an old childhood fantasy: he would pack up and disappear, leaving the family to weep and rend their clothes and wail about how  _sorry_  they were that they had never appreciated little Loki properly when they had him.

An old idea, a silly idea that had no place in his life now, not when he really  _was_  valued and appreciated for perhaps the first time ever.  He knew that.  Still, erasing himself had been a strange experience and he was still feeling a little bit raw, and decided he shouldn't rejoin the party until he was finished calming down.  

Time passed, the night was lovely, but eventually over the distant sounds of feasting he heard someone trudging towards him through the snow

Instantly he was on his feet with a ball of power in his hand... but it was only Fandral and he relaxed.  He threw up a hand in greeting.

Fandral waved back. “Ho, Loki.  There you are.”

“No - Thor's up in our-... up in his room,” Loki said. “With a girl.”

“I know.  There  _you_  are, I said.  I'm not looking for Thor.”  He gestured to a nearby tree that would provide some shelter, and even though Loki preferred sitting under the stars, when Fandral asked “Mind?” he shrugged and went to it.

They sat down together and Fandral brushed snow from their hair and shoulders.  His fussing was unusually coordinated for this hour, and it seemed that most of the flush on his cheeks was from the cold. “You're not drunk,” Loki observed.

Fandral laughed. “No. I decided to keep my head clear tonight to make sure our king didn't make too big a fool of himself at his first royal birthday party.”

Loki had been doing much the same thing.  Pity; if only they'd coordinated their efforts they could perhaps have worked in shifts. “I think he acquitted himself well.”

“Thanks to you.  Nice work with that drinking horn.”

Loki acknowledged with a nod and just hoped the subject would pass quickly.  Watching people clustered around Thor urging him to drink longer and harder, to drain draft after draft... even though it was all in fun Loki hadn't liked it, and he had begun vanishing liquid out the back end of the horn while Thor gulped away at the front.

“No one else noticed the cheating,” Fandral added. “Only me, as I was the one in charge of monitoring His Majesty's drinking. Soberly.”

He hoped Thor appreciated what good friends he had. “You did a fine job.  Now, why did you come looking for me?”

Even in the poor light Loki caught a look of consternation flashing over the handsome face. “Ahh... no reason.  We noticed you weren't in the hall, and I started to worry.”

“Don't try lying to the liesmith,” Loki snapped, but then felt bad, and conjured a warm breeze as reparations. “Why?”

“Mmmm.”  Fandral relaxed in the heat.

“Tell me why.” The reluctance meant that it must be unpleasant.

Fandral sighed.  Ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, Loki, it was all in fun,” he began.

“An auspicious beginning to any explanation.”

But the warrior was not so easily bullied. “Ah, quiet down,” he laughed. “Listen.  Sif was drunk and lusty.  We'd all started teasing her about laying with this man or that man, or this army or that army, and eventually with all the men of the realm at once.”

“... And then with all the  _beasts_  of the realm, and then, scandal of scandals, even with a frost-giant,” Loki guessed.  He knew there was no malice in it and he did his best to shrug it off.

“In substance, yes.  Which reminded us that we had not seen  _you_  for a little while, so I, as the most sober, came looking.”

“Thanks for your concern, but as you see, I am fine.”  He looked back out at the snow. “Thor's up there with a girl, as I said, so I've come out here to sulk.  That's all.”

There was a long silence, and eventually he glanced over to see Fandral looking at him with a very odd expression on his face. “What?”

“Loki... You don't mean...? Forgive me, but there's no delicate way to ask. You and Thor?”

“Me and Thor...?”  It actually took Loki a moment to realize what he must be talking about. When he did understand, his silver tongue deserted him completely and he began to sputter almost without words. “I, I- you-  _What?_ ” he managed at last. “He's my brother!”

Fandral's hands rose in apology. “All right all right, I thought not of course, I'm sorry, it's just, you know, there was all that  _Thor's queen_ business, and you said you're out here sulking because...”

“Because I've been evicted from my bedroom so that Thor can fuck!”

“All right, all right.”  Fandral was still making soothing gestures. “I'm sorry.  Look, you did move in to his room the moment you learned you weren't his blood relation.  And since then he won't come wenching with us, because he  _has to get home to Loki_.  So when you said...”  He waved it off. “Never mind.  All right?”

Loki buried his hands in his hair and tugged.  The headache helped.  Thor was an idiot – and so was he. This was what came of being too secretive. “I have nightmares,” he explained shortly, staring at his lap. “That's why I don't sleep alone.”

“Oh.”

He had to laugh. “You people didn't really think...?”

Fandral winced. “Sorry.  I mean for all we know it's normal... you know... where you come from.”

Loki couldn't remember the last time he was simultaneously this exasperated and this amused. “No, I'm afraid that is not normal  _anywhere_  that I know of.  And for your information Jotunheim doesn't practice monogamous pair-bonding at all.  Much less with a close family member.  Ugh.”

“Who said it had to be monogamous?”

Loki rolled his eyes, by now much more amused than exasperated.  

It was quiet for a moment, and then Fandral said: “This is going to sound all sorts of wrong now, but: do you want to come up to my room?”

“Fandral!”

“To  _sleep_!  To sleep,” he assured fast, laughing. “In separate beds.  I just meant that if you can't be alone....”

Now that he thought a little harder about it, sitting up all night in the snow was not really a very good plan. “I appreciate the offer.”  He made a face. “Unless it will start more rumours?”

Fandral climbed to his feet and offered Loki a hand up. “I think there are rumours about me and half the people of Asgard.”

Loki let himself be pulled to standing before answering: “It's well more than half.”  

“And I'm sure you step in to defend my honor every time you hear one.”

“Certainly – when I'm not too busy fucking Thor.”

Fandral apologized almost all the way to his bedroom.

**************************************************************

Thor woke up to the worst headache he could remember since crashing to the unforgiving rock of Midgard from the sky.  There was a foul taste in his mouth and his stomach was roiling.  

He recognized it all as the aftereffects of drinking, but couldn't yet remember the drinking itself.  He groped blindly in the darkness for his curtains.

Before he could find them the darkness lifted all by itself, and there was Loki, sitting on the edge of the bed reading. “You have rejoined the land of the living, brother,” Loki laughed softly.

Thor tried to get out of bed, but felt so sick he went to his knees on the carpet instead.

The carpet was unfamiliar.

He looked around more carefully and realized that the room was all wrong - the bookshelves were gone, the decorations different. “Where am I?”

“You're at home.  I'll take the illusion off now - I worried the magic would wake you.”  Loki stood and waved his arms in a big complicated pattern, and the room sparkled and melted away into its usual form.  Loki's clothes everywhere, his books, his armor.  When he was done he turned back and smiled with unusual gentleness. “Do you remember anything about last night?  Your birthday party?”

“Oh.”  The birthday party had been wonderful.  He'd left with a woman... and Loki had dashed on ahead to remake the room for him. “I remember.  I had not planned to drink as much as I did.”  There had been a reason he'd planned to be careful.  His head pounded. “Oh-!  I have an audience. Ambassadors from Alfheim. At eleven. I cannot...”

“It's already two in the afternoon.  Calm down – I took care of it for you.”

“Gods.”  Thor covered his face, pressing hard against his eyes to try and control the spearing pains in his skull. “What did you tell them?”

“In a minute.  First, look at me.”  Loki sat back down on the bed, laid hands on the sides of his head, and murmured some spell. 

It felt like the brains were being scooped out of his skull and shaken. Thor grit his teeth so as not to scream, and didn't, and afterwards the pounding faded to a dull faraway throb. “Thank you, brother.”

Loki scowled. “It's not perfect.  Sorry.  Drink is a singularly difficult malady to cure.  How's your stomach?”

In response his stomach clenched up and began to heave.  Frantic swallowing prevented anything from coming up, but he shook his head. “Ill.”

Loki did something for that too, and although Thor didn't feel entirely well afterwards, he was able to get up out of bed and dress. “What happened this morning?  And how on earth did I sleep so long – what did I drink?”

“I don't know – you weren't nearly this bad when we left you.  The woman who accompanied you swears you sent her away without explanation and reached for a bottle, and that is all anyone knows until we found you this morning.”

Ah, yes.  He remembered now.  The room had felt  _wrong_  without Loki in it, and it had occurred to him that Loki had given up his own sleeping-place for the sake of his brother's amusements.  He had felt so guilty and drunkenly overwrought that he'd bid the woman goodnight and consumed the better part of a bottle of hard Elvish liquor instead, weeping into his pillows about brotherly love. “I was feeling introspective,” he said, in a tone meant to discourage questions.

Oddly, Loki didn't pry. All he said was: “I see,” and then rose to begin pacing. “So: about the audience.  Please don't be angry.”

His stomach knotted. “What did you tell them?”

“I didn't tell them anything.”  Loki passed a hand over his face and suddenly Thor was looking into a mirror. “I appeared as you and handled all the business myself.”  Another swipe of his hand and he was Loki again. “You know I would never impersonate you without your permission, Thor, but you were completely unconscious and they would have been gravely insulted if you didn't come.  I swear to you I didn't do anything, _anything_  that-”

“Loki.”  Thor held his hand up. “It's fine.  I trust you.”  A great deal of tension went out of Loki's body at that, which Thor  _hated_ , because it meant that after all these months of calm and restraint and not a single explosion, Loki still worried that he might lose his temper at a moment's notice. Did he not deserve better by now? How long until he had proved himself matured?

Still, he knew that Loki had been given much reason to distrust in his life, and so he only clapped him on the shoulder. “And I thank you as well, brother, for I do not think I would have negotiated wisely in my condition this morning.” He smiled. “So. Tell me about the audience. What matters were discussed?”

Loki looked, if anything, even more uncomfortable. “Well. There was one matter I did not resolve – I said I needed time for reflection.  We have to talk about it.  I didn't know what to do.”

“Of course.”  Loki had never sought advice in this way before.  Thor tried to draw himself up and look more like a king and less like a sick vagabond. “What matter?”

“An Elvish princess was kidnapped,” Loki recounted shortly.  “With the help of an Asgardian.  He was captured, but he would not tell where the girl has been taken.  It was proposed that we have him interrogated.  Hard.”

***********************************************

TBC.  


	2. Chapter 2

Thor swallowed several times.  “That is out of the question,” he said.

“Not so fast, Thor.  We have to talk about it, I said.  So let’s talk.”

“Loki.  I will never…”  He shook his head.  He could not bring himself to say it – he never could.  They only ever talked about Loki’s ordeal obliquely and with euphemisms like _when I went away_ or _the wounds you bore_.

Loki chose this time of all others to be more direct.  “I imagine you’re thinking that after having been broken on the rack myself I cannot want to see it used on other people.  Yes?”

Thor walked to the window and drew the curtains closed.  He leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief – the sunlight still felt harsh on his drink-abused head.  “I think that neither of us could sleep soundly after ordering such cruelty,” he said at last.  “It was sickening to see.  I cannot imagine what it must have been to…” he shook his head.

Fortunately Loki did not give him any details.  Instead he shrugged and said lightly: “Ah.  Well.  You don’t have to see this time, and I don’t have to experience.”  He crawled up on the bed to sit against the headboard, hugging his knees.  “In fact I think the less thinking about it we do, the better.”

“But you would order it.”  Thor felt ill, and wondered if he could fairly blame the drink for this as well.  “You would send one of our people to that place.”  His voice was cracking.

His brother seemed annoyed by the emotion.  “Before you go showering this fool with your sympathy,” Loki snapped, “You might want to remember what he did to get himself in this position in the first place.  You can’t go around kidnapping people’s princesses.”

“So he _deserves_ it, is what you’re saying?”Thor shook his head, reproachful.  “Loki.  You of all people.”

He had meant only to remind Loki that that was the selfsame reasoning Odin had employed with such terrible consequences.  He meant that there could be _no_ justification for treating a prisoner in that way.  Loki ought to have taken it for a show of support.

Instead he took it precisely the wrong way, and exploded.  “Me?   Me of all people _what_?” he repeated, breathless and wild.  “I, I’m so _evil_ that how dare I stand in judgment over anyone?  How could _any_ crime shock me!  Is that it?”  He half-flew down from the bed and crossed the room, to snarl from a distance of six inches away.  “ _Is it?_ ”

“No!  No – not at all.”  He did his best to be conciliatory.  “I meant only that what you-”

“ _Enough_ , Thor!” Loki barked.  “Be silent.  You have _no idea_ what you’re talking about – any of it.”

Though he knew he did not deserve such anger and disdain, Thor breathed slowly and did not let his temper rise.  “I know that you are scarred,” he said instead.  “ _I_ am scarred as well.  We cannot inflict that horror on other people.”

“Oh, stop it,” Loki spat, lip curled.  “Don’t be so dramatic.  I’m _fine._ ”

“Fine?”  Thor let out a laugh of shock.  “You’re not fine.  Look at you.”

“I said I’m fine – leave off!”  He was nearly shouting.  “It was nothing.  It was a, an unpleasant couple of days, all right, I got hurt, wonderful, it happens to all of us and it’s _over_ and I am _fine._   Don’t you dare tell me I’m scarred.  If I tell you all is well with me it fucking _is,_ do you hear me?”  Thor opened his mouth to answer, but Loki cut him off and repeated: “Enough, Thor.  Conversation is _over._ ”

“Very well.”  He was still determined to accept his brother’s bad mood without retaliation, but still, he had to point out: "But Loki, remember, you did ask for my opinion.” 

“Well I don’t want it anymore.”

Thor laughed again, harsher, and answered too quickly.  “That is unfortunate, as I’m the king and my opinion is the one that matters.”

Loki froze. 

Thor winced, but before he could retract what he’d said Loki was speaking up.  “Yes… you are, aren’t you.”  It was soft and bitter, and the smile that accompanied it was painful to see.

 “Loki – wait.” He took one step closer, but stopped when Loki backed away.  “Please.  Brother, you know I didn’t mean that…”

Loki went to the door silently, his face completely closed off.   Before he left he clapped a fist to his chest and bowed. 

****************************************

The door had not even closed behind him yet and already Loki was admitting: _That was cruel._

But he was still angry enough to feel delighted about it.  He _knew_ his anger was partly because he hadn’t slept (Fandral’s spare bed was no substitute for the safety of Thor’s embrace) and he was a little hung over and a little worried, and because it really _wasn’t_ fun to contemplate what the elves wanted him to do.   But Thor was just making him angrier and angrier.   That look of reproach, bordering on disgust.  _You would send one of our people to that place?_ His obstinacy.  And then, worst of all, his _pity,_ the awful pity that shamed Loki now and yet hadn’t done a damn thing to help him in the dungeon. 

Well.   Given all that, anger was justified to some degree at least, and Loki certainly wasn’t about to go back in and make peace.   Instead, he went to the library, the place everyone knew to look for the prince when he brooded.  This time, though, rather than curling up with a book in his favorite chair, he conjured parchment and composed a note.

_Your Majesty._ He tore it up: too mean.

_Thor._   No, that would not do either: too familiar, condescending even.

_Brother._ Good.

Loki chewed his pen.  He decided against something long and conciliatory; he was unable to do it without sarcasm.   It was a closer call, but he also decided against something about _visiting my people_ that would tear at Thor’s heart, because he really _did_ want to leave for a few days and didn’t want to spend them feeling guilty.  Then he thought of writing something practical, about the Elvish princess, because they really did need to think of what to do… but he didn’t _know_ what they should do.  (Other than, of course, prize the information out of their prisoner.)  Eventually he gave up on saying anything at all, and wrote only:  _Brother: I’m going to Jotunheim for a few days.  I’ll see you when I return.  Loki._

****************************************

Loki arrived a bit outside the palace.  Helblindi wouldn't be expecting him and the last thing he wanted was to traipse around alone looking like the enemy, so he changed form and vanished his clothes before coming any closer. 

The buzzing in his ears quieted immediately, his pounding pulse slowed to a crawl, even the tight headache of rage was dulling.  Loki waited to feel horrible again, holding his breath... but it did not happen.  He felt better.  He didn't want to admit it, but the truth was inescapable: the change had felt _good._

He didn't push his luck by trying to look down at himself and not recoil.  Instead he just walked around in the snow, meandering easily towards the gates, making ice and sliding it between his fingers as he brooded.  (It felt natural – had he stumbled on a Jotun nervous gesture, perhaps?  He would have to ask.)

Thor was infuriating.  Thor thought he knew better.  Thor never listened, and there was nothing anybody could do about it because _Thor was king._

If they did everything in their power and still the girl died, Alfheim would be upset.  But if Thor refused to investigate as Alfheim wished and _then_ the girl died... Alfheim would be apoplectic.  There would be  crisis.  There would be retribution.  There might even be war.

“Loki-Prince!”  His brooding was interrupted by a frost-giant up ahead.  Loki squinted into the swirling white wind.

“Er-? Greetings!” he called back.  He followed the shadowy figure to the shelter of a wall.  Only then was he certain: “Cousin.”

“You did not know me.”  Helblindi was amused.  “Do you know me now?”

“It's-... dark and snowy out here,” he protested, feeling stupid.  _Dark and snowy_ on Jotunheim.  That would be like telling people at home: _but the air is full of air here!_    He frowned.  “How did you know it was me?”

“Everyone with sense is indoors when the snows are coming.  A wanderer was seen, and I knew it must be you.”

“Or some other long-lost brother you never knew about.”  Loki smiled.

Helblindi returned an amused huff, before asking: “Why have you come?  You were not expected.”

“I know.  This isn't a, a diplomatic visit.  I just-... Do you mind if I stay a couple of days?  I won't be in your way.”  He made himself give an explanation.  “Thor and I quarreled.”

Helblindi frowned.  “Your Asgardian has exiled you?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Loki assured quickly.  Wondering if he was imagining a note of indignation in the rasp, indignation on his behalf.  “It's only, I'd prefer someone else's company to his right now.  Anyone's, really.”

“Be welcome.”  Helblindi turned to walk away, and Loki followed him.  Thor would have been demanding to know every little detail of the argument, but the Jotuns asked not word of explanation for the next three days.  Loki lounged with them in their splendid ice-caves, repairing armor and listening to stories and helping complain about the storm, and not once did anyone ask what he was hiding from.

Finally, though, he had had enough of distraction, and it was time to tackle the problem.  He thanked the giant who was showing him how to hammer out dents with ice, and approached the throne where Helblindi sat sewing. 

“Can I... talk to you a minute?”

Helblindi inclined his head.

“And do you mind if I-...?”  Loki gestured vaguely to his face.  Again the giant didn't object, so he shifted form and pulled warm clothing from the ether.  He felt more comfortable now, more _himself,_ and he cleared his throat and began talking.

It was rather like talking without an audience: there was no interruption at all as Loki explained that he had once been locked away and tortured because the Allfather had had doubts about his loyalty, and that this had upset Thor, and that it had turned Thor soft, and-...

He stopped talking abruptly, when he remembered that he _did_ have an audience, and that it was someone who could potentially be an enemy someday, and that he should not be talking about Thor’s weaknesses in front of an enemy.  He swallowed.  But it made no sense to leave the story half-told.  “And now he won't use the dungeon on others, even though we need it,” he finished up.

Helblindi looked back down to the leather he was working on.  “You say it turned the Odinson soft … but it did not do the same to _you_.”

Loki watched him punch holes with an awl – directly against his own leg, which appeared immune to puncture wounds.  The frost-giants likely had different views of what constituted softness.  “It didn’t make me softer than I was already, anyway.”

Helblindi glanced up to see him watching, and chuckled.  “Has no one taught you to sew?”

“Someone wanted to.  One of your... women.”  He used the term very, very loosely.  “But to be honest I was afraid to try.”

“You should not try now, not as you are.  The Aesir form is very weak.”  The giant did not even look up from his work.  “I could tear pieces off you with my bare hands.  I do not see why anyone needed a dungeon.  Are you well again?”

Concern?  Contempt?  He couldn't tell.  “Snows have fallen,” Loki said at last.  It was their way of saying _water under the bridge,_ a phrase which had no meaning in a realm of eternal winter.  “But apparently Thor is still worried about me.  He thinks I must find the thought upsetting.  Thinks I’m _scarred_.”

“Mm.  You need not have quarreled with him over it, child.”

Helblindi was still calm, and ponderous... and _lecturing_ him.  Loki's back rose.  “The Odinson is quick to quarrel.  As well you know.”

“ _All_ Aesir are quick to quarrel.”  This time Loki thought he heard disdain, and as the giant punched the awl through leather and into his lap again, hard, it seemed he was making a point. 

So Loki made a point of his own: he bent and, without taking Jotun form, raised a column of ice to sit on opposite the throne.  It was not easy, but his sorcery was _good,_ and he could tell from Helblindi's glance that he had impressed.

“I wear this form by choice, cousin,” he said, with a bit of an edge. He did not add: _Don't disparage it._  

But clearly Helblindi took his meaning.  “There is no insult in what is true,” he said mildly.  Then he cocked his head.  “Perhaps you would do well to remember that the next time the Odinson offers you his sympathy.”

Loki's mouth opened and then closed again.  If they knew one another a little better he might have snarled _I hate it when you're right,_ but rather than risk a diplomatic incident he only scowled and stopped arguing.

It _was_ true, what Thor had said.  Using the dungeon would be ugly and distressing.  The idea that he had insisted otherwise now seemed ridiculous – no wonder Thor had treated him like a child.

So, it was time to reframe his argument.  Of _course_ it would be distressing, he would say.  But that did not mean it must never be done.  Alfheim's princess, Alfheim's rules.   By now it was likely too late to actually save the girl, so the best they could do was make a show of cooperating with the ambassadors in every way possible.  It was terrible cruelty, he would agree, but it was necessary in order to keep things calm for the realm.  They would step up as king and prince and do their duty.

Helblindi was still watching him calmly.  “Thank you, cousin,” Loki told him at last.  “For your wisdom.”  He rose and backed away from the throne, then went down to a knee to give a full (Asgardian!) salute.  “I'm going to return home now.”

Helblindi made him a farewell gesture – one of the warmer ones, if he understood properly – and went back to his work.   Loki went out the door to leave.   The snows were truly falling now, and in the two seconds it took him to open the ether and go, he froze half to death and decided that perhaps the giants were right about the Aesir form after all.

**********************************************

It was light in Asgard when Loki returned.  A nice afternoon.  He headed out to the training yard because he assumed Thor would be there letting off steam after his morning's duties.  

But the yard was almost deserted – there was only Fandral, hacking away halfheartedly at a practice dummy.

“Fandral,” he called, and made to wave.

Fandral whirled to face him, dropped his sword, and _dashed_ over.  “Loki!  Finally – we were so worried.  What happened?”

He stepped away from the grabby clutchy arms that seemed to be trying to _hug_ him.  “What?  Nothing happened, I'm _fine._ ”  He was beginning to find it insulting, the implication that he ran such great danger going to Jotunheim because those mindless _savages_ might just _eat_ him when they tired of his company.

But Fandral was oblivious to his irritation.  “Good, great, then where's Thor?”  he continued in a rush.  “I'm going to wring his neck, and yours – you can't both go off like that, your mother was worried _sick_ and Sif's on the warpath and the petitions are piling up and-”

“Thor?”  Loki frowned.  “Thor's not with me.  We-... we argued.  I took a few days in Jotunheim with-, a few days to cool off, as it were.  I left him here.  He's not here?”

Fandral shook his head.  “We thought he was with you.”

“Well... This is annoying.”  It was _only_ annoying, he told himself firmly.  He was not worried, not at all.  Finally Loki got his thoughts in order.  “I left him a note in the library, I thought that's where he'd look for me first,” he said.  “Send somebody to check if it's still there.   I suppose we both must have just left for a bit, each assuming the other would stay and hold down the fort.  I'm sure that's all it is – and I apologize, it won't happen again.  Next time I'll ask his permission in person.  Now _go._ ”

He told himself that everything was fine.  Thor was surrounded by friends and protectors every waking moment – and certainly no one could have taken him in his sleep, because Loki had personally laid the protective magicks over their bedroom himself.   Strong and excellent spells.  No one but Thor (or a very, very powerful sorcerer... rather like some of the ones Loki had met in Jotunheim recently…) could even enter the room.

Of _course_ everything was fine, he told himself.  Of course.

**************************************

**TBC.  Dun-dun-dun!  Cliffhanger!**

**(Don’t worry, there won’t be many of these.   I’m not going to switch genres on you and give you a crazy plotty adventure story.  We’ll find Thor next chapter.)**

**Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Squeamish people, take heart: I'm not planning to have much violence onscreen this time.
> 
> Dungeon-lovers, take heart as well. I'll probably post the torture section as a side story at some point, in case you do want to read it. I sketched out most of it already so that I know what happens, which is why this chapter took so long to post.
> 
> Also, there’s vague/implicit Thor/Sif here in the background, but I don’t think it really qualifies as a pairing. I'm not even sure they're together anymore. But they might have been at one point.

 

*******************************************************************

Loki went straight for their bedroom and checked the door, but his spells were firmly in place.  That was good, at least.  He opened the door and the room was tidy.  Didn't appear to have been attacked or ransacked.  That was good too.

What was bad was that there was a note left on his bed... and laying across it, gleaming in the reddish afternoon sunlight, was Gungnir.

He approached the bed carefully.  A trick?  A trap?  He swept magic over it and decided that nothing was the matter with the staff at all, which made him seethe because what in the Nine did Thor think he was doing leaving such a dangerous treasure lying around unprotected.  He reached for it himself....

But stopped half an inch away.  What if it had been left there as some kind of test?

After a moment Loki realized that that was a stupid thought.  Thor was not Odin; he had neither the desire to test Loki nor the ability to do it cleverly.

Maybe he had just... forgotten how dangerous the thing could be?  But even Thor could not have been so careless.  Loki nudged the staff out of the way with magic and pulled out the note to read.

**_Loki -_ **

**_I am sorry we quarreled.  Forgive me.  You were right._ **

**_I have gone, but I expect to return within a week or two.  In the meantime, rule as you see fit – either as yourself, or under illusion as me if you prefer.  I have complete faith in you._ **

_######### ####### #### ##### ####### ####### #####_   
_###### ######## ######## ##### ##### ######## #### ###_   
_### ########## ######### ##########_

**_\- Thor_ **

Loki frowned at the crossed-off paragraph.  Perhaps Thor had gone hunting to clear his head, or maybe gone to Midgard for the comfort of his woman. 

But he never hunted without his friends, and he had no way of getting to Midgard – no way of getting almost _anywhere_ on his own until the Bifrost was repaired.  His feeling of foreboding growing, Loki used magic to erase the scribbles and see what his brother had deleted.

**_This is something I must do.  As you love me – and as you love Asgard, which deserves better than a king who rules in ignorance – do not interfere._ **

Loki stared at the note for a bit.  _You were right.  Something I must do._ He willed another explanation to present itself... 

But there was none.  What had happened was plain: after being chastised for making his decisions in ignorance, Thor had gone and out of some misguided guilty sense of duty consigned himself to a dungeon to experience its horrors firsthand. 

After the things he had seen... _how?_  

Loki snarled aloud.  “Thor, you _fool_.”  

He stormed into the hallway to go stop him...

And then realized he had no idea where he was going.  He didn't know where the dungeon was; he vaguely remembered being led down to a portal deep in the bowels of the castle, nursing an unpleasant cocktail of hate and self-pity (and trying to avoid fear), but he had no idea what level or what wing or what corridor he had been taken to.  He remembered that it had been a very long walk.

He also remembered suddenly that the Drones had opened it by a magic he didn't recognize, and that worried him, but on the other hand if Thor had managed to get in it couldn't be all that complicated.

He would have to ask directions from someone who knew, or someone in whom Thor might have confided.  Outside of himself that was a very short list, so he sent guards to fetch Thor's mother and his silly friends, and ordered everyone brought to Heimdall's post so all the questioning could be conducted at once.

********************************************************

Loki arrived first.  He didn't even bother with a greeting; he just rapped Gungnir on the ground and demanded: “Where is Thor.”

Heimdall regarded him coolly.  “You know where Thor has gone.”

So much for any last lingering hope that his guess had been wrong.

“Yes, but since I don’t know where it is or how to get there, I need you to tell me.  Now.”  He tried to sound less hostile.  “It’s for Thor's own safety.”

“The king has explicitly forbidden me to direct anyone – especially you – to the place where he has gone.”

Loki banged the staff again, trying not to feel like a child having a tantrum.  “I rule in Asgard right now, whether I like it or not, and you _will_ obey me!”

“I will obey my king,” Heimdall corrected, cold.  “And while Thor yet lives, he is still my king.”

“While he lives, what does that mean, while he lives?”   Loki could hear his own voice rising.  “Can you see him now?”

“Of course.”

“Well... well where is he?” Loki sputtered, and then corrected himself.  “Or at least, how is he?  Tell me that.  Is he well?  Has he really…-”

The doors flew open, to admit Sif and the Idiots Three.  “What's going on, Loki?” she called before she even got in speaking distance.  “What are you doing summoning us like servants, and where's Thor?”

He looked her over and decided that her confusion and anger were genuine.  “You tell me,” he said at last.  “I came home to find Thor gone, and a letter on my pillow.”  He hated to share it, but on the other hand he had to protect himself.  Perhaps _I have complete faith in you_ in Thor's own hand would help take the suspicion from Sif's eyes. 

So he held out the note. They clustered around it, reading with varying degrees of slowness, and Loki grew so impatient that he began to pace.

“My son.”  Frigga in the doorway, brow dark.  “What has happened?”

“Mother.”  Loki came and kissed her hands.  “I’m afraid Thor’s gone and done something stupid.  Do you know where he is?”

She shook her head.  “He came to discuss the Elvish princess with me.  He was... troubled.  But he didn't say why – he said he would handle things with Alfheim first, and then talk to me about what had upset him later.  He never returned.”  She held him by the shoulders and looked hard into his eyes.  “I thought he might have gone looking for the girl himself.  But that’s not it, is it.  What happened?”

He couldn't, _couldn't_ tell her.  It would only worry her, uselessly as there was nothing she could do.  Besides it might not yet be too late, he would not _let_ it be too late, _nothing_ awful could have happened to Thor yet.  It wasn't their way to start in quickly; he knew that.  He was _sure._

“Thor’s just being Thor, but I will stop him before he comes to harm,” he told Frigga firmly.  “In the meantime, can you keep everything together for me?  Host at meals, lead at counsel, that sort of thing?  You can just tell them that the king-”

“Loki.”  She put a finger to his lips.  “I _kept everything together_ while your father slept for years upon years.  I'll handle Asgard.  You handle your brother.”  She turned to Thor's friends and, radiating power, ordered: “You'll cooperate with Loki in any way he tells you.  No foolish questions, no hesitations, no defiance.  Is that clear?”

The Warriors all mumbled _Yes my lady_ and bowed.  Sif gave her awkward court curtsey.

Loki watched with raised eyebrows as she swept away.  “Thank you, Mother,” he muttered, loudly enough to be heard.  “That doesn't undermine my authority at all.” 

As he'd hoped, Fandral and Volstagg snickered.  They were on his side – or as near as anyone ever was.  Even Sif looked less hostile than usual.  She crossed her arms and just prompted: “So?”

Loki hesitated.

“Loki?”  Fandral's voice was gentle.  “You know something you're not telling us.  It’s time.”

Even Hogun – _Hogun –_ spoke up.  “We can be more useful if we know what's going on,” he pointed out.

So he beckoned them closer.  Put his back to Heimdall, because even though Heimdall would hear them anyway, it was hard to talk under his cold mistrustful eyes.  “After the Bifrost broke,” he began, then stopped.  He didn't, _didn't_ want to say...

“You were taken away and you had your limbs ripped from their sockets,” Sif supplied.  “You told me.”

He nodded and looked around at the others.  “You all remember what I looked like when I returned.  I think Thor has gone where I was.  I think he has some idea that... that he should… suffer.”  How had he not foreseen this?  Thor had been _itching_ to do this; he had said it straight out.  _I am willing to suffer for you, if it will help._ Loki drew himself up.  “We need to go and pull him out before he does.”

“Why would he go and do something like that?” Fandral mused aloud.

“How should I know the reason for any of Thor's stupidity?” Loki snapped, but realized immediately that denials would not help him win any more trust.  “We had an argument and I, ah, I may have used the phrase _you don't know what you're talking about,”_ he admitted after a moment.  “But I meant for him to shut up!  Not to go and actually _learn_.”

Sif let out an angry huff, but Fandral glared at her.  “Not your fault,” he told Loki firmly.

“Aye.  That's just Thor.”  Volstagg patted him almost hard enough to knock him over.  “Chin up, Loki, we'll get him.  You've been to this place?”  Loki nodded.  “Wonderful!  Then you can lead the attack.”

***************************************************

It took Loki far longer than it should have to dissuade the Idiots from assembling an army.  He made the political argument (Odin has a relationship with the place and it seems to be a neutral facility; assaulting it might make Asgard some enemies) and they did not care.  He made the danger argument – as carefully as he could, but still Fandral put an arm around him with sickening care and promised _we won't let anything happen to you_.  Finally he hit on the winner:  “Would you start a fight in a china shop – with Thor as the china?” he snarled.  “He could be in a position of vulnerability the likes of which none of you can imagine.  If we annoy them, if we _distract_ them even, something truly gruesome could happen to him.  A battle is not the answer.  I _forbid_ you to start one.”

Volstagg grumbled, “I like Thor's orders better; there's _always_ a battle in there somewhere,” but they did not argue further.

Next they tried again to talk to Heimdall, but the guardian could stonewall like none other and they soon gave up.   At that point, Loki was (temporarily!) out of ideas.  He recounted what he remembered about the portal and sent the warriors to start searching, while he retired to his room to think. 

He knew the search would be useless.  There was a vast network of tunnels beneath the castle and the city; hunting through it would take days at least.  Too long to wait – Thor was strong and fearless and he laughed at pain, and at times he seemed practically indestructible, but still... eventually they would hurt him.  And then what?  He had insisted he was scarred already, and at the time Loki had scoffed but now he found himself worrying.  _Thor wasn't lying_ , he realized, remembering his face.  _And he wasn't being melodramatic either, because how often does Thor profess feelings to win sympathy?_ Even when they were children, Loki had been unable to teach him how to manufacture tears.

So he really _had_ been affected – and that was before.  Once he _really_ understood what he had allowed he would be inconsolable.  As well as physically wrecked.

Loki's brooding was eventually interrupted by a soft knock.

“Enter.”  He realized too late that he was slouched in a chair with his clothes hanging open and his hair wild; hardly kingly.  He made efforts to sit up straight and look fine until he recognized: “Sif.”  He relaxed at once – she already knew he was not fine.

“I brought you soup.  You haven't eaten.”

Very sweet of her – except one sniff told him she didn't know the first thing about his food preferences.  “Thank you.  Did you want to talk to me?”  When she nodded, he indicated a chair and made an effort to choke down a few bites to be polite.  “So.  How goes the search?”

“Not good.  It’s almost a labyrinth, and many of the doors are sealed with magic so we can’t even break them down.  And nobody has a full set of keys or maps.  There are stairs under stairs under stairs, levels that we have no idea what they're for.  Only Heimdall and Odin really know this place.  It would take us weeks.  Maybe longer.”  She drew in a slow breath.  “We need a new plan.”

She had thought of one already, he could see.  So he nodded.  “Go on.”

“I...”  She lowered her eyes to the floor.  “Could you wake the Allfather?” she asked at last.  Softly.

He realized she must mean to ask if he had _caused_ the Odinsleep, if he had spelled Odin into dormancy himself and might lift the curse if he was petitioned politely enough.

Flattering, in a way.  He supposed.  “The sleep is not my doing and I don't know how to disrupt it,” he told her shortly.

She nodded.  “Still.  Could you try to talk to him?  He may listen to you.  You’re his son.”

Loki chuckled – unpleasantly, even to his own ears.

Sif pressed on stubbornly.  (No wonder she and Thor made such a good match!)  “Please try.  I know the Allfather intimidates, but Thor is in danger – and I know he would do the same for you.”

“Of course he would.”  Slow and soft and venomous.  _Why are you telling her so much_?  He made himself sit up and smile.  “Very well, I'll knock on Odin's door.”

“I'll come with you,” she said at once.

“To watch over my shoulder?”

She frowned.  “To watch your _back,_ Loki.  To confirm your words if anyone doubts you.”

He still didn't trust her.  She surely still didn't trust him.  But Loki really didnot want to go alone to Odin's chamber and tell him:  _wake up, because your son is off somewhere being killed by inches.  Just as I threatened._

“Of course,” he said.  “Forgive me, it's been a difficult day.”

He had not been to see Odin at all since the sleep started, even though he knew it made his mother sad.  But for this he made himself go.  With Sif at his side, he stood in the bedroom and even approached the bed, and shook Odin with his hands and with his magic.  Told him of Thor's stupidity.  Asked him – bitterly – if he would awaken to save him.  Again.

But Odin didn't stir, and after an hour they gave it up.  “Go to bed,” he told Sif.  “We'll think of a better plan in the morning.”

She clasped her hands behind her back.  “Fandral says one of us has to stay with you,” she said.  He had _just_ started to go cold with mortification when she added: “With Thor gone you're all Asgard has.  You have to be protected.  I see you don't like it, and in truth I’m not delighted either, but for the good of the realm we'll just suck it up.  I can sleep on the floor and I don't snore – you’ll hardly even notice me.” 

He mentally promoted Fandral from the _idiot_ category in his mind and nodded at her.  “All right, come with me.  I’ll make you a bed.”

Rather than send her to trek home he made her a nightgown too, something modest, but she shook her head and asked for one of Thor’s tunics instead.  He handed one over, doing his best not to feel possessive, and bid her goodnight politely.  But he was annoyed – and his annoyance grew as she began tossing and turning in bed.  The rustling was incessant.   Eventually he growled: “I see why you don't snore.  You never actually fall asleep.”

She froze.  “I'm sorry.  I'll be quieter.”

“Try,” he sneered, but soon felt bad and admitted: “It's not you disturbing me.  I'm...”

“Worried.”  Silence a moment.  “So am I.”  He heard her shift again, so that she was facing his direction.  “Loki?  Was it really...?  Tell me.”

“Are you asking to hear about it?”  He slammed doors in his mind, and managed not to think of anything that disturbed him.  He chuckled.  “ _That_ certainly won't help you get to sleep.  Shall I tell you a story instead?”  He did not offer to soothe her with magic; he would only get  _No, I don’t trust you_ in response.

“No.”  He heard her sit up.  “ _You're_ the one going to be planning – I should be telling _you_ a story.”  Then he heard her smile.  “I'd offer to sing you a lullaby, but... well... you've heard me sing.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” The sight of Sif on a tavern table belting out bawdy love ballads would never leave him.  Thor's birthday parties were _always_ wonderful.  “Yes, no lullaby, please.”

He listened to her shift restlessly a while longer.  “Loki?” she said at last.

“Still awake.”

“Oh.”

She seemed about to speak again, but didn't.  He tried to figure out what she was going to say, what she was thinking, and suddenly felt sorry for her.  She was desperately worried.  Even her demand to wrap herself in Thor’s clothing was no longer irritating, only (sweet) pathetic.  He sighed.  “When we were children I used to creep into Thor's bed when I was afraid,” he said.

“I know.”

The answer derailed his friendly overture for a moment.  He frowned.  “How could you know that?”

“Thor... teased you about it once,” she reminded, reluctantly.  He didn't really remember that.  “So you poisoned him.”

Ah.  _That_ he remembered.  At the time it had seemed like justice.  “That wasn't poison,” he defended.  “Just a little laxative.”  _Mostly._ He sighed and flipped the covers down.  “Do you want to come in?”

He heard a rustle that must have been a nod, because a moment later she was crossing the room to him.  She laid down and when her feet brushed him they were _freezing._   He imagined changing forms on her to get revenge.

They lay awkwardly side by side for a moment, but that wasn’t very comforting at all and Loki finally said: “I suspect neither of us can do this as well as my brother, but it will probably be better than nothing.  Here:”   He manhandled her onto her side, spooned against her tightly, and slid an arm around her waist.  “How's that?”

She nodded, and fumbled for his hand to lace their fingers together.  “It's good, thank you.  I'm worried, Loki.  And I don't even know what to be afraid of.  What's _happening_?”

“Nothing,” he said firmly.  “Nothing yet.  It starts slowly.  At least it did for me.”  He felt her tense a little, so he swallowed down his own doubts and started lying.  “In any event, he'll be _fine._ You know there's not a thing in all the realms that could break Thor.  We’ll have him back in plenty of time.  He’ll laugh at us for having worried.”

She squeezed his hand, and relaxed against him.  “Truly?”

“Of course.”

“But you _are_ worried.”

“Perhaps a little.  But my mood is at least as much exasperation as worry; Heimdall was stubborn and you know how I hate being thwarted.  I’m fully confident about retrieving Thor in short order.  Now don't think about... any of it.  Just go to sleep.  I've got you.”

Before long she actually did, and her deep even (quiet!) breathing was marvelously lulling.  The next thing he knew it was morning.

**************************************************

TBC.

Ach sorry, this turned out to be longer than I was expecting, and we didn't actually get to Thor.  But we will in a second.

And don’t worry, I am not going to pair Loki and Sif.  Blrgh.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So last time I was doing shortish updates every 2-3 days.  This time I seem to be doing longer updates every 5-7 days.  Is that schedule working for you guys, or would you prefer the old way?**

**************************************************

In the morning Loki and Sif dressed quickly, without looking at each other.  He sent her away and returned to Heimdall on his own.

“When I wore the crown,” he said, “You all but disobeyed me.  You slithered around my words – poorly, I might add; if I had not been otherwise occupied I would have named you traitor when I found out.  But snows have fallen, as my kind say, and that doesn’t concern me now.”

Heimdall waited, impassive.

“All I want is to know whether you’ll do the same thing to Thor.  _For_ Thor.   Find a way to sidestep his commands, whatever they were, so that we can help him.”

“The king was very thorough.”

“So was _open the Bifrost to no one,_ and that doesn’t seem to have stopped you.”

For a moment Heimdall didn’t move, and Loki wondered whether he planned to ignore the comment entirely.  Then he answered, slowly: “What would you have me do?”

_I’d have you get me there so that I can get him out!_    But that was the same argument all over again, so Loki tried starting small.  “I need to know how much time we have.  Has he been left to stew in a cell somewhere, or have they begun?”

Heimdall shifted his stance and closed his eyes.  Was he _seeing_?  “They have begun.”

Loki supposed that was only to be expected; Thor had been there for several days.  But he held on to the belief that nothing awful could have happened yet, or Heimdall would have said so.  “And?  Keep going,” he pressed, “I want to know _everything._   Every detail of him at present, and everything you’ve seen of him since he left.”  He started out fine, short and clipped and controlled, but before long it started slipping.  “Every word he’s spoken, every movement he’s made.  Every… thing…”  He shook his head and fought hard to keep the disturbing ideas out.

“If you would know detail, then let me _show_ you,” Heimdall volunteered.

He frowned.  “Show me?”

“I have been able to show to the Allfather at times.  Never to Thor, but with your powers, perhaps it is possible.” 

“Tell me what to do.”  Loki came close at once, even before Heimdall had sheathed his massive sword.  He didn’t flinch as the guardian’s hands rose and settled on either side of his head.  They were uncomfortably warm.

“Open yourself, my prince.  Your mind and your magic.”

Loki felt a familiar alien power pressing against him and reached out for it.  He had learned to recognize the presence of the watcher so that he could shield from it, but now he realized that Heimdall was not actually gazing at him from the ether…  he was in a different place entirely, a layer Loki had never even known existed.  _Heimdall?_ he said, nervous, feeling himself gather magic around him as a shield.

The voice echoed through him: _Yes.  This is where I see.  Do not resist._

He needed to know that Thor was all right.  _You don’t fear this,_ he told himself, and stopped pulling for power.  Immediately he felt his mind invaded.  His entire _self_ came under pressure, trying to make room as a foreign presence expanded inside him, and he threw his hands up to cover Heimdall’s and hold on tighter because he was worrying that his head might actually explode.

_There will be no explosion, my prince.  I am only helping you look_.  That should have reassured him, but instead, it told him that Heimdall could _see his thoughts_ and suddenly he felt so exposed and helpless that he almost pulled away.  But he had to know.

_Show me,_ he thought.  Heimdall showed.

***********************************************

 Thor was hanging suspended by his wrists and completely limp.  His chin touched his chest.  His hair, wet and stringy with sweat, obscured his face.  His chest didn’t rise or fall and his entire body was covered in bloody wounds.  Loki was sure that he was dead.

_No!  You told me he lives!_ he shouted inside his mind, and he could hear Heimdall growl: _He does._

A drop of blood slid down Thor’s side.  When it reached the hipbone Thor’s body jerked, and Loki remembered that he had always been ticklish there and let out a huge sigh of relief.

Now he was relaxed enough to let Heimdall settle further in, which let him see closer, more detail.  Thor’s breaths were very shallow – only tiny changes in the shape of his abdomen showed that he was breathing at all.  _He has become exhausted,_ Heimdall explained.  _He has been hanging for many hours._

_Why is he so bloody?_ Loki demanded.  _What happened?_

_The wounds are not deep.  It was a whip._

Loki wondered if Heimdall could hear his mental wince.  _Is he going to be all right?_ _He doesn’t look well._    Thor’s hands wilted in their cuffs, his feet pointed limp at the floor.  The angle of his neck was unnatural, surely not comfortable, his head hanging down like a dead man’s.

_He is exhausted,_ Heimdall said again.   _He has not had food or rest, and he has been suffering._

Of course.  Of course it was Thor’s strength that the Drones would target.  Loki tried not to get distracted by anger or a rising feeling of nausea.  Instead, he looked a little longer at his brother’s motionless body and tried to assess his condition. 

It had been a long whipping, but not too severe; many of the marks did not bleed, and the lashes had crisscrossed only over his back and buttocks.  Everywhere else the strokes had been laid down clear of each other, neat parallel lines, and such precision meant that Thor had had time in between to compose himself and become still – he had not been struck again while still writhing in pain.  Also, though the amount of blood on the floor had alarmed Loki initially, he saw now by the color of the puddle that it was well-mixed with sweat and really not all that much blood to begin with.

But the state of the floor – clean everywhere except where Thor was hanging – said that he had been suspended the entire time it had happened, and all the time since.  And his hands bore that out; despite the thick padded cuffs, his fingers had gone dark with lack of circulation.  He was heavy and it would be agony for his joints to bear his weight for so long, but he was making no effort to use his muscles to spare them strain.   He hung completely still.  Suffering. 

_How long do they plan to keep him there?_ he asked.  Before Heimdall could answer there was movement – a Drone (not one Loki recognized) stepped into the picture and placed hands on Thor’s hips.  It pulled down, seemingly just a little, but even that small bit of extra pressure made the prisoner snap his head up, teeth clenched, and twist miserably.  The Drone said something to him and uncoiled a whip from around its neck.  It lashed him once, tugged on his hips again, and then retreated off to wherever it had come from.  

Loki could watch, wincing, as Thor squirmed with the new pain, but once he went limp again it was too disturbing.  _Enough, Heimdall._

Instantly the vision was gone, and his head ached as Heimdall backed away from him.  “That is your answer, my prince.  They are wearing him down.  Slowly.”

“It’s not an emergency yet,” he decided.  “But it will be.  Yes?”

“I watched them negotiate upon Thor’s arrival.  He asked for terrible things.”

“All right.”  Loki ran a hand through his hair, and turned away.  “Then I can’t just let this foolishness run its course – I have to get to him.  I order you to help me in any way you can.”

“I cannot direct you to where he has gone.  I cannot do anything to help you find it yourself.  Nor can I name another who would do so.”

Loki spun to face him.  “Another?”

Heimdall’s face was completely blank.  “I cannot tell you who else might know how to get to that place.  I cannot even tell you which realms have been known to send their criminals there.”

“Which realms…”  Loki frowned.  “Go on.”

“That is all I cannot tell you.”  Heimdall shrugged, and drew his sword again.  “If you will excuse me, I should return to my duties.  My vigilance should never be relaxed.”

Loki nodded – clearly that was all the not-information he was going to get.  “Check in on Thor whenever you have a moment,” he ordered.  “And… good work.”

Heimdall inclined his head and went back to his post.

***********************************************

So Heimdall was suggesting that he seek help from someone in another realm.  Alfheim of course was familiar with the dungeon; their ambassadors had suggested using it.  But Loki didn't know whether Asgard was on speaking terms with Alfheim at the moment, so he summoned Thor's friends and demanded to know what Thor had done about the elves’ princess.

“Ah...”  Fandral made a face.  “It's a long story, Loki, but Alfheim's not happy.”

“You don't think I could talk them into a brief easy favor that might save Thor's life?  _Me_?”

He shook his head.  “Not even you.  Not now.”

So that was that for Alfheim.  The only other realm Loki had had dealings with lately was the realm of the frost-giants, and he decided that made a decent place to start looking.  If Helblindi couldn't help him he might at least have a suggestion of who could.  “We go to Jotunheim,” he said.  Then he thought it over.  “Rather, _I_ go to Jotunheim.  I probably shouldn't appear surrounded by a crowd of known enemies, should I.”

Fandral frowned.  “You can’t go alone, Loki.”

“You should have someone by your side,” Hogun agreed.  “An honor guard at least.”

Loki nodded.  Not because he needed backup in Jotunheim, but because when he got to the dungeon he might well panic and fall apart, and someone needed to be there to pick up his pieces.  “One of you will come.”

“I will,” Sif said a beat before the others.  She gave Loki almost a glare.  “To watch your back.  Just let me get a cloak – and Loki, so help me, if you leave without me...”

He spread his hands in surrender, and stayed exactly where he was until she returned.  His own cloak he conjured.  But he let the warriors help him bundle up and arm to the teeth, just in case. 

When all was ready he took both Sif’s hands, and was glad to see that they were warm and steady.  “Let me do the talking in Jotunheim,” he said.  “The Jotun chief and I share blood.”  Oddly, he felt no revulsion as he said it.  “I like him immensely.”

Even more oddly, Sif showed no revulsion either.  “Let's hope he likes you-”

“-just as much,” she finished, in the swirling snow.  She pulled her cloak tighter and looked around.  “We're there.”

“Indeed.”  Loki had to shout over the wind.  “Let's get inside before we freeze.”  He didn't transform – it would be better to appear before the Drones in full ceremonial armor rather than a loincloth and collar.  Not that his armor was the easiest thing to fight in if it came to that, especially as he'd grown used to wrestling nearly naked in the snow, but he needed to look imposing, and fully equal to Thor, if he was to have any hope of overruling Thor's wishes.  So, Aesir he remained.  He ignored the instant headache of a freezing metal helmet, and shivered inside his furs, and strained to make out even the huge silhouette of the giants' spires in the darkness.

He had transported them as near as he could, but it took so long to struggle that last bit to the doorway that the court was all assembled by the time they got inside.  Helblindi greeted them with formal courtesy.  Possibly because of the armor?  “Greetings, Loki-Prince.”

“Greetings, Helblindi-Prince.”  As much as Helblindi protested that _prince_ overstated his importance, Loki thought he secretly liked it.  He smiled from under his helmet and then took it off, and it was so cold to the touch that lines of frost began moving under his skin where it made contact.  “I'm sorry to intrude on you again so soon, cousin.  Thank you for receiving us.”  He evaporated the snow off himself so as not to leave a puddle. 

The giant shrugged.  “There is no intrusion, child.  We are glad to see you.”  His red eyes flickered briefly to Sif.  “And we are glad to see the Odinson's female as well – she is pleasing to look on.  Greetings.”

He could feel Sif bristle at being called _the Odinson's female,_ and bristle harder when a number of frost-giants murmured approvingly, but for once she kept her mouth shut and only bowed. 

“We need a favor,” Loki said bluntly.  He had already decided he could not in good conscience inform a frost-giant that Asgard's king was missing – even a frost-giant he had come to like – so he skipped that part of the story entirely.   “There's a place I’ve mentioned to you,” he said, “Where people are sent to be broken, to be put to the question and perhaps executed in the end.  A dungeon.  Ruled by creatures with-”  Loki gestured to the side of his head, the place where the Drones wore their markings, and before he could describe any further Helblindi nodded.

“Ah.  Yes.”

“Do you have a way there?  We need to go.”  This explanation he had prepared in advance, and the words rolled seamlessly from his tongue.  “Asgard has a portal of course, but the Allfather went into his sleep without telling us where it is.  Someone's been sent there in error, a terrible mistake, and I won't be able to live with myself if I don't go fetch him back.  Can you direct us?  I will be in your debt.”

Helblindi rose from his chair and cracked his neck – a musical icy tinkling.   All he said was: “Come.”  He led them outside.  In his Aesir form Loki was cold and miserable and could hardly see, and he and Sif had to cling to each other to balance on the ice.  He realized he very much _wanted_ to turn Jotun at the moment.  Except not quite, because then Sif would probably put a dagger through his eye in surprise.

Where they went was far – and even farther than it needed to be, because they took a circuitous route to keep closer to large rocks that would provide some shelter from the violent wind.   It was a project of several hours, and powerful as he was Loki eventually grew too exhausted to keep himself warm with magic.  The very best he could do was summon heat enough to keep himself (and Sif, a drain of energy which he soon began resenting) from freezing.  _This is the last time I prance around Jotunheim wearing the wrong anatomy,_ he promised himself.  _Last time ever._

“We have arrived,” Helblindi eventually said, calmly, and stopped by what looked like a flat wall of ice. He pressed his hands against it to melt it away and reveal a shimmering doorway.  “Loki-Prince.”

“Yes?”

“It is the Odinson you seek.” 

It was a question, and at the idea of lying to him outright Loki hesitated for an instant – and knew the hesitation was noticed.  So he might as well admit the truth.  “What on earth gives you that idea?” he forced out through chattering teeth.  “Of course I'd make this hike for any citizen of Asgard.”

The giant snorted.  “Return safe, child.  Your realm of weaklings needs you.”

**********************************************

 They stepped from the portal into an empty white chamber with terribly low ceilings.  Loki had to duck his head to cross the threshold, and even once inside worried about the height of his horns.  The air was warm, which was blessed relief, and they shook ice from themselves and took a moment to help each other look presentable.

And then they looked around.  Against the walls were a few plain chairs – metal – and Loki found he couldn’t tear his eyes from them.  _Please, h_ _ave a seat_.  He remembered all too well the sides of the chair digging in to his arms as they were folded behind it.

“Loki?”  Sif said, close by.

He shook his head.  “I’m all right,” he whispered, and fought to make it true.

Then a voice crackled through the air.  “Good afternoon, Asgardians.  Someone will be with you shortly.  Please, have a seat.”

_Please, h_ _ave a seat._ Loki shuddered and backed away to stand against a wall.  Sif called his name again and he nodded – he didn't quite trust his voice, but he _was_ all right.  He breathed deep and slow.  He was all right.  He was.

Then he heard the light hiss of their doors sliding open.  He knew that hiss.  His eyes squeezed shut and he couldn’t look.  Sif was near him, he could feel her heat and smell her nervousness, but any comfort he might have derived from that was just not enough to protect him from-

“Afternoon, both of you.  Loki!  So good to see you again.”  The offensive, familiar drawl of Drone Three.

**********************************************

The next thing he knew was the clunk-clunk of his head against the wall and Sif’s greaves against his head; he was sitting on the floor and she was standing over him.  “What spell have you cast on him?” she was snarling.  “Lift it or I will carve out your heart.”

_Sif, no,_ he tried to say; you couldn’t _fight_ them.  But his lungs felt swollen up with air so that he couldn’t breathe in or out, and he sat hugging his knees, frozen.  Waiting.

“No spell,” the Drone said easily.  “He’s just become very anxious, more than we’d expected.  Apologies, Loki; I wouldn’t have come myself.  He remembers me because I worked with him,” it added, and Loki could hear the changes in its voice when it talked to Sif.  It was distant and polite, neither patronizing nor commanding her.  But to _him_...  “Now come on, control yourself.  _Loki._   Quiet _down._ ”

There was suddenly silence and he realized that he had been wheezing, and now was not breathing at all.

“That’s better,” the Drone said. “Look at me.”  He obeyed right away, and when the Drone ordered him to _breathe_ he did that too.  He stared numbly as the Drone backed away to the far corner of the room and sat down in a chair.  “I’m going to talk to your friend a moment, but listen: you won't be touched, and you can leave whenever you want.  No one’s going to bother you.  All right?”

_Bother me.  That’s one way to put it._  Loki felt himself coming back together, enough to hate that he was cowering on the floor at Sif’s feet.  But not quite enough to get up.  “I’m fine,” he said up to her, and stayed right where he was.

Drone Three looked up.  “You’re the lady Sif.  I’m pleased to meet you in the flesh.  Again I apologize for frightening Loki; Thor gave us to understand that he’s all but shaken off the effects of his stay here.”

“Of course he did.”  Loki snorted.  “My brother would consider it _disloyal_ to admit that I often wake screaming in the night.  Or that I’ll probably never participate in a drinking contest again.”

The Drone gave him a bland smile.  “I can’t imagine why not; as I recall you had quite a talent for it.”

It would mock.  The cruelty of that struck him like a blow, but Sif bent to help him to his feet and once he was standing he felt a lot more himself.  Anger burnt away the last of his paralysis.  “I would be careful with water if I were you, my friend,” he growled.  “By now I’ve learned to do much more with my nature than cool burns.”

The Drone flashed teeth and instantly Loki was bathed in a cold sweat.  _What are you doing?!_ he gasped to himself, pressing tighter against the wall.  But then his mind caught up to his panic and he realized that there was no threat – Drone Three had actually _grinned_ at him.  “Good for you!” it said, with enthusiasm.  “Now.  To what do we owe the pleasure?  Are you planning to take out a contract on this dear lady, or am I correct in assuming you’re here to ask after your king?”

Loki had planned a great deal of diplomacy, but now he opened his mouth and what came out was:  “I want my brother back this very instant.  Or I’ll raze this place, with you inside it.”

*****************************************************

TBC.

Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Torture warning: brief glimpse, not that bad.**

* * *

"Loki!" Sif was hissing into his ear. "You said no battle!"

But the Drone was calm. "Thor is in the middle of a session right now," it said. "You're going to have to wait."

In the middle of a session. Right now. They were torturing him  _right now_ and-

" _Loki_ ," Sif said again, and shook him. "Remember what you told us."

He took a deep breath. Rage (not panic) was creeping up but he tried to sound like he was still together; he had already fallen apart once in the last five minutes and did not need to do it again. "Take me to him now."

The Drone was very still and watching him. "Come on, Loki. You did always strike me as rational. Even under stress."

Was it pleading with him? Had he made it  _afraid_? Loki felt himself smiling – that strange cold smile that unsettled people so badly these days. "I  _am_  rational," he said. "If you take me to Thor, nobody's going to get hurt."

"No, you're misunderstanding me." Drone Three rose from its chair. "All I meant was that you surely know better than to do anything rash. Assuming you care about your brother's safety."

Loki tried to look unimpressed, but he had to swallow or he couldn't breathe. He was choking, choking on nothing.

"Which of course you do." the Drone continued without emotion. "So, change your attitude. If I told you to get down and crawl, you would do it without a word of question or complaint." It smiled. "But of course I wouldn't do that. Instead, you and I are going to sit down and talk, like the rational creatures we are. Please." It gestured to the chairs.

Loki felt Sif pushing, trying to nudge him to  _have a seat_ , and because his legs were starting to feel unsteady he let her. How had this slipped so quickly out of his control?

"Now." Drone Three was crisp and businesslike. "As I said, Thor is busy. You can check in on him through a window if you like, or you can wait until he's done."

Sif cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said. "Forgive me for not understanding, but why not interrupt now?"

The Drone bobbed its head at her. "A fair question. We're loathe to interrupt because Thor is being taught, and it would be extremely disturbing to leave with the lesson half-learned. He needs to discover a few more truths before it all makes sense."

Loki felt a squeeze and looked down, and saw that Sif's hand was on his knee. How long had that been there?

"We understand," she said. "But Loki was concerned that you may be hurting him."

"We are."

Loki laughed at the way she froze up. And when she looked at him in open-mouthed horror he laughed more.

"Enough," Drone Three said, and Loki stopped, because laughing made no sense anyway. "Decide. Do you want to go see him now – down the dungeon – or would you prefer to wait a bit until he can come out and speak to you here?" The Drone's eyes moved over him and Loki knew it was seeing his pale lips, his shaking hands. "The dungeon might not be a good place for you right now, honestly."

"We want to go to him now," Sif said. Her voice was hard.

The Drone was still looking him over. "Loki? Can you?"

Sif squeezed again. "Loki is  _fine._ "

Loki smiled at nothing. "Of course he is."

"Loki." And  _there_ was that tone again, snapping orders. "Focus."

Loki focused. Go to Thor now?  _There?_ But he had known it would come to that. He had told himself to be ready. "I'd rather visit him now than wait half a day and visit his pieces," he said. "Take us; I'll manage."

"All right." The Drone rose. "Follow me. It's a different room this time, a whole different wing actually. Maybe it won't ring any bells for you."

The bells were already banging away, but Loki did as he was told. He hung on to Sif's arm openly, and kept his helmet on even though it meant in places he had to duck.

* * *

There did come a time when he had to give up the helmet. Drone Three led them to a corridor with a long glass window, from which they could look in to a small well-lit room which had a pulley hung from the ceiling.

Thor was dangling from the pulley, by the wrists again, and they were talking to him. Also periodically tying weights to his feet. The weights looked small, but for some reason they were driving Thor berserk; his roars of agony could be heard even through the thick glass partition.

Thor would  _hate_  for people to watch him scream. "Don't look," Loki snapped in Sif's direction. His own eyes were glued.

"If you want to go in I can take you, but there's probably no point – it won't be much longer," Drone Three said. "He's going to pass out soon."

Loki frowned. "From what?" Even as primed for panic as he was, this didn't look too bad.

"His hands started behind his back."

_Then_  he noticed the unnatural length of Thor's arms, the incorrect placement of his armpits, and realized that both his shoulders had been badly dislocated. And all his weight was hanging on them, plus the weight the Drones were adding besides.

Loki could  _feel_ it. Physically feel it, the burning pain of joints tearing on the rack. It was as awful as the first time, and his stomach knotted up. "I'm going to-"

"Sit." He was shoved into a chair, bent over forcibly until his head was on his knees. "Don't puke in your hat." The helmet was wrestled off.

But once it was gone he could hear Thor bellowing even more clearly. "Enough," he said. "He's had enough – listen to him. Please, he needs mercy, you have to stop. Please." He had never begged them, not until he was too far gone to even know what he was doing, and it hadn't been pride – it had been fear, it had been  _this,_ it had been the absolute terror of what happens when you open yourself up to the core and offer them  _everything you have,_ and still they say no?

He waited. He couldn't breathe.

In the silence, though, he could hear the noises from the chamber better; the words were indistinct, but he could make out the cadence: questions cool and firm, answers frantic – increasingly frantic, high-pitched and desperate.

He covered his ears.

Almost at once a cool Drone hand tugged on his wrist. "Come on. We'll wait in his room instead. Sif!" the Drone snapped at her, and Loki watched her detach herself from the window as if in a dream.

"Loki?" she said.

His answer was automatic: "I'm fine." She looked shocked. She damn well should. The Drone shoved the horned helmet into her hands, and Loki wanted to ask for it back but he was being urged to his feet and he could do nothing but obey.

"Come on, Loki. This way."

He went where he was told.

* * *

He didn't know how long they waited in the empty cell. He was staring, Sif was staring at him, and Drone Three was reading a book.

But eventually the door opened and two Drones dragged Thor in by the feet. He lay limp and groaning, but Sif, thank goodness, took his condition in stride and stepped quickly into his line of vision. "Thor."

Thor struggled to sit up, panting and wincing with every inch. "Sif. Loki." His words were thick and slurred.

"Don't talk," Loki said at once, suddenly kneeling beside him. He had no idea how he'd managed to cross the room that fast. "What happened? I'll fix it." He took Thor's chin in his hand, feeling around the jaw carefully, all set to heal it as soon as he figured out the injury.

"Lno." Thor shook his head and tried again. "No," he said more clearly. "It's fine." He brought a hand up, wincing, to peel Loki's away. "Why have you come?"

"I'll give you three guesses, you imbecile." Loki gestured for Sif without looking, and she came to crouch beside them. "On the count of three we pick him up and dump him on the bed." He could have done it with magic, but he didn't want to waste his strength since he might need it for healing and escape. "One. Two-"

" _No_!" Thor struggled hard enough to dislodge their hands. He turned to Sif. "Ribs and shoulders. Be careful."

She nodded, calm. "All right, no pulling. I'll just brace your back."

Loki hated himself for not knowing how to help, but he watched carefully so that next time he would. Sif crouched behind and let Thor set his back against her. As she counted three he sucked in his breath, his massive legs bulged, and they stood up together.

"Can you walk?"

He nodded, and made his way slowly to the bed to sit down. When he moved Loki could see that much of what he had taken for shadows was actually bruises – Thor's whole torso was black and purple. Most of the whip marks had healed already, but that was small comfort, as it seemed he had spent the day getting his ribs broken instead.

Once he'd caught his breath he looked up. "I asked you not to come," he said to Loki.

"No – you asked me not to  _interfere_. And we haven't interfered, yet. But we're going to."

Sif was hovering by the bed, not quite touching. "What happened to you?"

Loki snapped: "Don't ask." He wanted her gone gone gone, but as he knew he couldn't manhandle Thor by himself he would have to just make the best of it. "Though I  _will_ ask what happened to your mouth so I know how to heal it for you." Annoyed and waspish. It was a tone he could control. "As annoying as it is to hear you talk, it's even  _more_ annoying to hear you talk unintelligibly. Tell me how you're hurt."

Thor glanced to the Drone in the corner for permission first, and then nodded. The words were mushy but understandable: "A device with wicked little clamps." He opened his mouth wide. "Hee?" There were dark raw spots on his tongue.

"Electric shocks," Drone Three supplied.

Whatever  _that_  was, the wounds looked enough like burns that Loki knew what to do with them. He pulled for power, and though it was more difficult than he thought it should be (this place? His upset? An injury deeper than it looked?), he managed a healing.

Thor sagged with relief and moved his tongue around. "Thank you, brother."

"And now the rest."

"No," Thor said dully. "There is no point; they will only do it all over again. I am not finished."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm afraid not." Thor was  _laughing,_ though only for a moment before had to wince and clutch at his ribs. "I signed a great deal of paperwork on this point exactly. A contract."

"Break it."

Their argument was interrupted by Drone Three clearing his throat. Loki looked over, eyebrows arched, and the Drone shook its head. A warning.

That warning look brought Loki back to all sorts of places he didn't want to go, but he forced his mind to behave itself and  _focus._  "Thor's your prisoner. Therefore his wishes mean nothing. Yes?"

The Drone smiled a little. "Thor's our client. Therefore his wishes mean  _everything;_ we signed a contract with him and we  _will_  live up to it."

"See?" Thor said. "Loki, even if I wanted to leave, I am bound by my promise. I'm not going anywhere."

There had never been a promise Loki could not slither out of. "I'd like to see Thor's contract, please," he said immediately. Politely. With his most charming smile.

Drone Three nodded. "You're welcome to look it over. It's up in the office." He opened the door and gestured for Loki to precede him, and at that old familiar motion Loki hesitated a moment.

Thor swallowed. "Loki, don't," he said.

"It's the fastest and safest way to get you out. And I have to get you out."

Thor huffed with frustration. "This is my choice and I am at peace with it. I don't want you to distress yourself on my account. I did not mean you even to  _know_  about this, much less to-"

"Not  _know_ about it?" he hissed. "Did you think you could  _hide_ it? When you start jumping at shadows and crying in your sleep?"

"I thought-" Thor stopped himself partway through the sentence. "Forgive me, brother, I am exhausted."

"You thought what?" Loki frowned at him. No answer. "You thought  _what,_ Thor?"

Thor shook his head, lips pressed shut, stubborn.

Drone Three laughed. "Would you like us to ask him for you?"

"That's not funny!" Loki snarled. "My brother is an idiot. Take me to his contract this second. You," he added to Sif, "Stay with him. Make sure nothing else happens to him, and try to talk some sense into his thick, thick head."

"No," Thor put in. "Sif, go with Loki. Don't leave him alone."

Loki fought the urge to throttle him. "I don't need my hand held. Don't  _look_ at me like that!"

Sif knelt by Thor's bed, and put her hands on his knees. "You're my king. I would die before I let harm come to you."

Thor shook his head, wearily. "I am a prisoner. Loki rules now."

"Exactly," Loki put in. "So you will obey me when-"

"So you will  _protect_ _him_ , with your life," Thor corrected. "Loki. Just because you're in charge does not mean that every stupid thought which passes through your head should become law. Who taught me that, I wonder?"

Loki had never –  _never_ – lost an argument to Thor, but he didn't really have an answer. He fumed. "Words suit you ill, and will avail you not at all. Sif: I won't be gone long, and in the meantime I  _order_ you to stay by Thor's side."

"Sif," said Thor, "As your friend, I ask you to go with Loki instead. I will never forgive myself – or you – if he should come to harm."

"I am not in any danger!" Loki was almost shouting. "And- and what if I were? What if there's a firefight and I bring the very  _walls_ of this place down on our heads. Would you rather be able to save  _me_ , or Thor? You don't care about me; you care about him. You will stay."

He made it as far as the door before she called after him. "Loki. That's not true."

He paused with his back to her, taking a moment to be sure a cold smile was fully in place so that he could turn and mock her for the lie.

"It's not," she said again, before he could face her. "I care about him  _more_ , yes. But if he didn't need me, I  _would_  go with you."

Well, he appreciated the honesty at least. And Thor's protests sounded genuine, which he appreciated too. He nodded and followed Drone Three out the door, alone. Head high and hands firmly at his sides.

* * *

Loki had never really spent time in an office before, but fortunately a smiling Drone with dull eyes – seemed to be female? – offered to help him the moment he arrived. He told her what document he wanted to see, and within moments she handed him a thick stack of papers.

Loki frowned at it. He had expected a scroll, a few lines, maybe written in blood. This was going to take him  _forever_ to unravel. But surely it was not beyond him. He sat down and unclipped the stack, but before he could start paging through it Drone Three spoke up. "Want me to save you some time?"

Loki nodded.

"You're not going to find anything wrong with the conditions Thor signed to. We don't do loopholes. Try this instead. Hey!" he called to the dull-eyed female. "This is the de facto King of Asgard, and he wants to rescind a contract on one of his subjects."

The female cocked her head. "De facto king?"

"Prior king recently abdicated. Left that scepter Odin was always carrying around. Loki's next in line."

Loki wasn't used to lying with an accomplice, but he didn't miss a beat. "See?" he said, and yanked Gungnir through the ether. It glowed contentedly in his hand. "Mine. I haven't actually had a coronation yet, but I've already sat on the throne as king."

The female shrugged. "Good enough for me. I'll draw the papers up. Anything else I can help you with?"

Loki shook his head, but as he watched her put Thor's papers back in a drawer  _full_ of papers he suddenly had an idea. "Wait – yes. Have you got-... can I have-...?" he turned to Three again for help.

Three nodded and explained: "He wants one of Odin's files from earlier this year. Number thirty-eight something, I don't remember. Contract on Loki Odinson."

The female found it, ran it through a miraculous device that cloned it instantly, and handed Loki the clone. "Here you are – contract on Loki Odinson. Yours to keep, Your Majesty." That was all. No horrified exclamation of:  _This is you and it was your father who signed it!_. Nothing. He wondered if she was an automaton of some kind. Or, maybe he was just silly and oversensitive? Maybe there was nothing odd about Odin's behavior at all.

"Thank you." He tucked the papers away.

"And here's what you need to rescind," the female continued brightly. "Are you sure? If you're sure, check that this is correct... and sign here... and here... and read this... and sign there..."

Loki did it all without paying any attention. He was too busy wondering what his papers would say. What Odin had actually planned for him, how little Odin had actually cared...

"You shouldn't read it," Drone Three advised as they left the office. "Never a good idea."

"Oh, what do  _you_  know?" Loki snapped, annoyed that the Drone could somehow tell what he was thinking about.

Three laughed. "I know plenty; I've been doing this a long time and I'm good at it. As you probably remember."

Loki broke out in goosebumps all of a sudden – until that moment he had been doing quite well  _not_ remembering. He refused any attempt to make further conversation until they got back to Thor's room, at which point he had no chance to make conversation at all because he was too busy trying to wrangle an injured and disoriented but still ridiculously strong God of Thunder back to the portal and back home.

* * *

TBC.

Let me know what you think so far!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Thor's POV this chapter.

“What do you want first?”  Loki's voice was crisp and emotionless.  “Would you like food, rest, healing, solitude – well, in your case, company I suppose.  Or what?”

It all sounded wonderful, but Thor's head ached and it was a trial to keep his eyes open.  “I need to sleep.  I'll have everything else when I awaken.“

“Of course.”  Loki turned to Sif and gave orders.  “Tell the others he's back and alive and generally in one piece.  And my mother.  But no one can see him until he's slept.”

Sif frowned.  “Our friends will want to-”

“Well he doesn't want them here.  So you can tell them that-”

“Loki.”  From somewhere he summoned the strength to speak.  “I can greet my friends.  They have worried for me.”

Loki glowered.  “Fine.  If it will ease their -ahem- _minds_ to hear him say hello, then they can poke their heads in for half a minute.  That is it.  Then he sleeps.”  And once she was gone, the snarling only intensified.  “Meddlesome harpy.  And _you,_ what are you smiling about?”

Thor knew better than to tell Loki that his angry fussing was endearing.  He had always liked it, though it only ever happened when he was hurt. 

“Nothing, brother,” he assured.  “I'm just glad to see you again, even though you're annoyed with me.”  _Especially since you're annoyed with me._

“Mm.”  Loki did a poor job of not looking gratified.  “Well, get into bed.  Perhaps they'll get the message and leave a little faster.  I'm only giving you five minutes before I come and throw them out.”  He left the room with a very severe glare.

Sitting in bed felt wonderful, and he didn't think he would want to converse for more than a few minutes anyway.  But it turned out there was no cutting short the visit once Volstagg learned how long it had been since last he'd eaten.

“That can't be,” the warrior huffed, eyes wide and horrified.  “Someone _GET SOME FOOD IN HERE_!”

Sif glanced towards the door, to where Loki no doubt stood glowering in the hall.

“All right, my friends, it's all right,” Thor soothed.  “Peace.  I've grown used to hunger – it hardly distresses now.  I want to rest, and when I wake I'll-”

“You can't go to bed without eating,” Volstagg insisted.  “How will you ever get your strength back?”

He felt irritation, but the mood was hardly the fault of his friends and he swallowed it down.  “You're right, of course.”  A smile felt odd and stretched on his face.  Aftereffects of the electric shocks, perhaps?  “Will someone call for bread and broth for me?  Something simple – I'm afraid I'll be ill if I try to eat too much.”

Fandral rose.  “I'll take care of it,” he said, and reached out to clap him on the shoulder as he left.  The touch hurt terribly, but Thor mastered the urge to squirm.

Once Fandral had gone Volstagg rubbed his stomach.  “I suppose talk might take our minds off hunger,” he suggested.  “Tell us what happened.  The rescue at least.”

The thought of telling a story wearied him, so he shrugged.  “Sif can tell it as well as I can.”

Attention turned to Sif, and she shrugged also.  She tucked hair behind her ear – Thor did not recall her ever doing that before – and looked at the floor.  “Loki and I went to Jotunheim.  The  giant-king led us through ice and snow, to a door, and when we got there one of those _creatures_ accosted us.  Loki... was afraid.”

Volstagg snorted.  “ _There's_ something new.”

Thor had long since learned not to get between his brother and the Warriors; it only ever made the arguments worse.  But this time, incredibly, _Sif_ came to Loki's defense.  “ _Stop it,_ ”  she ordered.  “Loki did very well.  When he arrived in that place he was… frozen.  Wild and staring, like… like a warrior who's seen too much of death.  You know the look.  But then he managed.”   She touched her hair again.  “He was very worried for you, Thor.”

Hogun nodded.  “We all were.”

“Yes.”  Volstagg thumped on the bed hard enough to shake it.  “You can't go off like that.  We're your friends.  If you're going to go adventuring, you have to bring us with you.  So that we can protect you from foolishness like this.”

Thor laughed – though there was anger, a powerful wave of anger.  “This wasn't an _adventure!_ ”  It was his habit to laugh when he was angry.  He had just learned that; it was one of the things the Teachers had pointed out to him on the day he arrived.  (He called them Teachers at their request – their somewhat mocking request.  They had refused to give him their names.)

“Both of you be quiet,” Sif said with authority.  “If Loki hears arguing he'll come throw us out.  Thor needs to rest.”

Volstagg rolled his eyes at her.  “Don't be such a mother hen.  And since when are you so taken with Loki?”

Hogun snickered.  “Maybe she really _does_ want to lie with a frost-giant.”

“Better a frost-giant than an oaf like _you,_ ” she answered at once.

They bickered on, but more quietly, and it was comfortable and familiar and Thor almost fell asleep to it.  He only opened his eyes when he smelled food.  Fandral had returned, with broth and bread for him... and also meat and cheese and fruit and cake.

“Share with me,” he offered.  “If I eat all this I'll be ill.”  He got a few bites himself before the rest vanished into the bottomless abyss that was Volstagg's stomach, and then he bid his friends good night.

*************************************************

When the Idiots came out Loki looked to Sif first.  “Well?” he said.

Hogun interrupted.  “He is hurt worse than he says.  Tomorrow you must take him to the healers.”

“I'll talk to him in the morning,” Loki agreed, and started into the room. 

“Good luck with that,” Sif snorted, voice raised so that Thor would overhear.  “Thor isn't very good at _listening_ when he's like this.  If you need someone to drag him, call us.  It wouldn't be the first time.”

Loki nodded, and resisted the urge to knock all their empty heads together.  Certainly what Thor needed just now was to be _dragged_ to the healers against his will.  Poked and prodded and made to feel helpless all over again.

As soon as they were gone he locked the bedroom door and rubbed his temples.  “Relax, nobody's dragging you anywhere,” he said.

“I'd like to see them try.”  Thor sounded amused, if exhausted, and called Mjolnir to him with a wave of his hand.  “And I am not _that_ poor a listener.”

Loki had his own views about that, but the last thing he wanted was an argument  “Is there anything you want done?  Or just sleep?  Either is fine.”

“Would you have a bath drawn for me?” Thor asked.  “I am too disgusting to go to bed like this.  And it may help ease some of the aches.”

Loki knelt and put his hands on the floor.  He closed his eyes and felt for water, found the bathroom, started the water flowing.  “Done,” he said.  “Come on.  I'll sit with you so that you don't fall asleep and drown in there.”

Thor stood very carefully, biting his lip.  Loki slid an arm around his waist without asking, and helped him to the bathroom.

He heated the water until it steamed, since Thor liked baths that were almost scalding, and then magicked their clothes away.  “Get in,” he said, and sat down on the edge of the tub.  It was far too hot for his taste, but he didn’t cool himself because he didn’t want to accidentally ice the bath over.  He was only in up to his knees anyway; he would manage.

As he’d expected, Thor pronounced the miserable temperature perfect.  He immersed himself to the chin, groaning loud enough to echo off the walls.

“Come sit here,” Loki said, “I’ll wash your back.”  It was as good an excuse as any to look him over – and it didn't take long to find something disturbing: when he brushed Thor's hair out of the way, there was a line of big puncture wounds across the back of his neck.  “What's this, what happened?” he asked, more sharply than he'd meant to.

“Hm?  Oh – that is nothing.  And I deserved it.”

“ _You did not deserve any of this._ ”

“Ow!  Peace, brother!”

He realized then that he had made a fist in Thor's hair and was yanking.  “Sorry,” he added, letting go.  “Should I erase this for you?”

“No – you know I prefer to heal on my own.  But if it doesn't improve by tomorrow you can-...”  He paused.  Sighed.  “If it doesn't improve by tomorrow I'd be grateful for your help.”

“Of course.”  Loki wondered what he had been about to say, but that would wait.  First he had to deal with these marks.  Thor was treating them like he treated his battle wounds, so Loki did the same and conjured his usual supplies.  “In the meantime I'll just clean them for you.  This will sting.”  There were plenty of solutions that _didn't_ sting, but Thor always complained that they didn't feel like _real medicine_.

“ _Mph._   Thank you.”

“You're welcome.  What happened?” he said again, rubbing briskly.

“I was... less than cooperative about being chained,” Thor explained.  “So they used a collar with spines, and tethered my hands to it.  It was _supposed_ to keep me from struggling.”

He sounded sulky but also proud of himself, and Loki had to laugh.  “But you, of course, with no sense of self-preservation...”

“... Struggled anyway, and made fantastic holes in myself.  At least at first, until the bleeding...”  He shrugged.  Would not say _weakened me._ “It's mostly better, though, isn't it?  The other day it was a hideous mess.”

“It's improving, yes.”  What had obviously been a web of nicks and scrapes and slashes had healed into faint silvery scars, and only these few deep pits were left.  “How do you feel?”

“A bit better.  Volstagg was right – food helped.”

“A broken clock is right twice a day, you know.  Put your head back.”  The punctures continued around the side of Thor's neck – stopping shy of his jugular, but still.  “They could have cut your throat.”

“Bah.  There weren't spines in front – and if there had been, even _I_ would not have been stubborn enough to yank.”

Loki sighed and finished cleaning the punctures.  “Do you have any other open wounds I should worry about?”

“No.”

_What about open wounds I **shouldn’t** worry about?, _he thought, but reminded himself not to crowd.  Instead he only offered: “And do you want me to wash your hair?  It's filthy.”  When Thor protested that he was perfectly capable himself and started to raise his arms, Loki slapped them right back down again.  “Don't, you'll hurt yourself.  Let me do it.”

The dirt and dried blood he washed from Thor's hair said he probably hadn't bathed at all during-... during the time he had been gone.  Loki tried not to think.  “Anything else?”

Thor shifted carefully.  “I have a rib – at least one – that needs setting, and I'm much too tired to go to the healers tonight.  I can go tomorrow, or...”

“I'll fix it.”  He laughed.  “We know I know how.  Stand up, face me.”

“Loki.  About that.”  Thor stood and faced him.  “I owe you apologies, brother.  For so many things.”

_This_ he had not seen coming, and he felt uncomfortable, _worse_ than uncomfortable, smothered and trapped.  “It's fine, it's all fine, _water under the bridge_ as you Asgardians say,” he babbled.  “Let it lie.”

“No.  We _will_ talk about all that – about everything,” Thor insisted.  “About resentments that have been festering longer than I realized.”  His eyes lowered and he splashed irresolutely a moment, but then he looked up with determination.  “Father said that you were angry, and perhaps I didn’t truly understand, but now I do.  We'll talk about it.  Not tonight perhaps, but we will talk.”

Ah – reprieve.  “Not tonight,” Loki agreed.  He could think of little he wanted to do _less_ than talk about forgiveness with Thor.  Ever.  Surely Thor would forget by tomorrow, if he were distracted somehow.  Perhaps if his hair were cut off in his sleep.  _I was worried about lice,_ Loki could explain.  Or perhaps-

“But there is one thing, brother, that cannot wait.”  Thor interrupted his thoughts firmly.  “Something I must know before another moment passes.  I suffered a great deal for this point, as I was asked over and over again to tell, to guess even, and I had no answer.  Perhaps you can help me.”

Loki remembered the terror of _not knowing,_ of digging through his mind desperately and coming up empty.  It was a horrible feeling.  “Certainly,” he managed to say.  “What was the question?”

Thor's mind was so much _simpler_ than his own.  Surely whatever had stumped him was actually not a difficult question at all.  _Why did you burn Loki's first spellbook,_ perhaps, or _do you believe Odin would be proud of you as king?_

(Respectively: jealousy, and yes but for the wrong reasons.)

Thor took a deep breath.  “When I was on Midgard, you came to me and told me I had lost my family and my home.”  Suddenly Loki was frozen.  “You told me that my father was dead, by my hand, and that my mother-”  He took another breath, an even longer one, and held it.  Loki could not breathe at all.  “That my mother had ceased to love me.  You made me believe I had lost... everything.”

He remembered rehearsing the conversation.  _Thor is an optimist,_ he'd told himself.  _He'll think of a hundred and one ways to hope and you must be able to dash every one.  He can't come home because there’s a truce.  But I could come disguised, he'll say, you've disguised me yourself in the past.  Oh Thor, you say, a sad smile, you pay no attention at all, do you.  The power it would take to hide you, et cetera et cetera, technical details he won't understand, and the moment I slipped everyone would know and they'd kill **both** of us, brother.  I can't leave Asgard open and Mother alone._

He had... planned it.  Meticulously _planned_ the breaking of Thor's heart, and now Thor was watching him with a bewilderment that couldn't even _begin_ to approach the bewilderment he was feeling himself.

_How could you do that_?, Thor was going to say, and he had absolutely no idea. 

He was starting to become dizzy.  He ordered himself to breathe, and then air rushed into him in a gasp, but the dizziness didn't fade.

Thor cleared his throat and firmed up his voice.  “That moment was the worst pain I have ever known, Loki.  Why did you do it?”

Silence.  Loki blinked.  Thor had asked _why…_ not _how._   He had just been accused of cruelty beyond enduring, cruelty beyond the atrocities of the dungeon even... and Thor wasn't even shocked with him.

_Well, why should he be?  We frost-giants aren't known for our tenderness,_ he thought, with a smile that didn't quite make it to his face.  _Or our familial loyalty._

But _why_ was at least an easy question.  “Why?  Because I needed you to feel hopeless,” he explained coolly.  “Too depressed to bother interfering with me.  And I didn't know exactly what enchantment Odin had put on your precious Mjolnir, but I thought it entirely possible that it was your worth in your own eyes that mattered.  So if you felt unworthy, you wouldn't be able to lift the hammer.  Wouldn't be able to fly back and beat my ass with it.  That's why.”

Thor was waiting.  “And?” he said at last.

“And what?” Loki snarled.  “And nothing.  And have I any way to excuse myself?  Of course not.  I wasn't thinking.  Not even a little.  I didn't give _one thought_ to your feelings, Thor, I didn't even think to care.  So.”  He shrugged.  “If it's any comfort to know I didn't break your heart intentionally, you have that.  Otherwise I'm afraid I can't help you; I have nothing to say.”

Thor's frown deepened.  “I thought you would tell me I had done something to deserve it.  That it was... justified.”

“We frost-giants aren't known for our sense of justice,” Loki tossed back immediately, with the smile this time – an ugly smile that made Thor flinch.  “Sorry to disappoint.”

“What?”  Thor waved the comment away.  “Never mind about frost-giants.  I still don't understand, so tell me this at least: do you even care?  Do you regret it?”

He lost his temper, all at once.  “Regret what – _lying_ to you?”  He gestured to himself spastically.  “God of Lies, Thor!  Do I have to spell it out for you?  _I cannot be trusted!_ What's the matter with you – how many times until you learn?”

_Loki!  Control yourself._

The command blazed up in his mind and suddenly his rebellious little mouth snapped shut.    Interesting – and helpful.  He fished for another one. _Change your attitude_.

“I-... one moment,” he said aloud, turning away to stare at the bathroom tiles.  The fight he had just picked was absurd – he had to apologize.  _If I told you to get down and crawl..._

It was true: he did know better than to cling to his pride stupidly.  “I beg your pardon, brother,” he said.  Quietly.  “I had absolutely no business shouting like that.  You asked a question.” 

“Yes.”

_Do.  Not.  Lie._

But _that_ wasn't a good order to think of; he could feel himself beginning to panic.  “If I try to answer you aloud I'll lie to you,” he said all in a rush.  “But I don't want to say nothing and hurt your feelings further.”  What could he do?  He had to say sorry somehow, but he didn't know how, but he couldn't do nothing, because that was _Not an answer._  

The panic was worsening.  He had to explain.

“Loki?  Say something.”

He didn't know what to say.  But then, inspiration struck.  Thor was never any good at _listening_ anyway.  “Get out of the tub.”

Thor sank down in it instead, frowning with suspicion.  “Why?”  Perhaps he had finally grown properly wary.  Good for him.

Just this one time, though, wariness was not necessary.  “Because I'm going to hug you,” Loki said, quick and uncomfortable, “And I'd rather not do it until you're clothed.  You'd be shocked at the rumors that are flying about us already.”

“You're going to... hug me?”  As if he didn't believe.

“Don't act like it's so difficult to understand,” Loki snapped.  “You do your best communicating with your hammer after all; I couldn't have been more than six when I learned that a punch in the face means _Thor's annoyed._ Surely you can get it through your head that a hug means _Loki is sorry,_ can’t you?  Come here.”

When he finally came out of the tub, dripping, Loki chucked him a bathrobe and stepped close.  He remembered just in time: “I'll mind the ribs.  Is this all right?”

He circled Thor’s body gingerly, but Thor said, “I don't care about the ribs,” and gathered him in with force.

So he squeezed back, ignoring the hiss of pain.  His face was against Thor's shoulder and he could hear Thor's breathing in his ear... which reminded him of their sleeping arrangement, of everything his brother had _done_ for him lately, and if it was possible to feel any sicker, that did it.

He had to say something _._ He could use a hug to prove sincerity – something words alone could never accomplish – but still he would have to talk at least a little.  _Be strong,_ he told himself, wishing he could command as much obedience as _them._ He took a breath and did his best.  “Know that I'm sorry, brother,” he said, steady.  “And that I won't do it again, and that if there's any way I can make reparation I will.”

Thor was silent a moment.  Then: “I never wanted to blame you or hate you.”

Loki snorted.  “That's unfortunate, as the king is supposed to treat people justly – and blame and hate are exactly what I deserve.”

“Don't joke.”

“I'm not.”  He squeezed once more and said into Thor's shoulder: “I really am sorry.”  Then he backed away. 

“Loki...”

“Now don't be an idiot and say you forgive me,” he anticipated, and Thor closed his mouth.  “Just shut up and let me fix your ribs.”

********************************

TBC. 

As always: let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Thor/Helblindi meeting was leading to some kinda heavy feelz, and I was in the mood for something light given all this storm crappola this week. So, this is a shorter chapter, ending with Sif & W3 messing with each other, which was fun to write. The somewhat territorial brothers thing will happen next chapter instead – and it’s already partly written, so it should be up in a few days.
> 
> Also: apologies to anybody who isn’t interested in reading Loki’s contract papers – there’s a lot of them in this chapter. I just think he’s naturally curious and there’s no way he would let a potential grudge like this lie without finding out what was in there.

 

***********************************************

Thor was sleeping, and giving every indication that he would _remain_ sleeping through the night and all the next day.  Loki would not leave him – but did not feel disciplined enough to study, nor relaxed enough to read for pleasure.

So of course the sensible thing to do was call forth the papers he had retrieved from the Drones and read that instead.

He put out of his mind entirely that Drone Three had advised him not to examine the documents.  The day he voluntarily took advice from one of those creatures…

_Loki Odinson,_ the cover page said simply.  It was a machine-printed sheet, but when he turned the page, the first document was a letter in Odin’s own handwriting.

_I have a prisoner to entrust to you: my son Loki,_ the letter said.  No greeting.  _Send agents to collect him at once; I will give detailed instructions here and repeat the critical points in Loki’s hearing.  Prepare the usual papers – he will be treated normally insofar as the pains you inflict and the confessions you extract.  However, I will have special instructions regarding the care to be taken with his dignity, and a warning regarding his affinity for lies._

Loki twitched with smile.  Affinity for lies.

_Breaking Loki will be difficult and delicate work,_ Odin went on, _requiring sensitivity but also a very firm hand.  I trust you will appoint a team capable of the task, and I expect to meet them before half an hour passes._

And then his signature, big and bold.

Loki flipped the page.  More correspondence.  _Will we need to send warriors to subdue him?_ said a note, and Odin had scrawled across the bottom: _No – he will go willingly, but his escort should be visibly intimidating in order to impress upon him the seriousness of his situation._

At that he frowned.  Odin had _known_ he would cooperate, and he hated having been so predictable.  If he had known what was expected of him he would have made a point of rebelling, and behaving as erratically as possible.

The next page began the contract itself.  It was printed, a list of terms to be marked and initialed.  The first was: _The prisoner shall be returned to me ALIVE / DEAD / DEAD OR ALIVE._ Odin had circled _ALIVE_ , which seemed to bode well.  He’d been kind for most of the page, actually – _The prisoner SHALL NOT be permanently disfigured.  The prisoner SHALL NOT lose ANY body parts or ANY body functions._ (Loki wondered what it meant when a prisoner _SHALL NOT lose MAJOR body parts._   What qualified as a major body part?).   He was not thrilled that Odin had authorized _MODERATE_ scarring as opposed to _MINOR,_ or better yet _NONE,_ but on the other hand he supposed he could always have wiped scars away with magic afterwards anyhow.

He finished the page not feeling particularly upset by the contract yet; it was mostly information he had already had.

When he flipped to the next section, though, he felt much less tranquil.  This was a checklist, _Permit_ or _Do not Permit_ item after item, and Odin had taken his pen and slashed wholesale down the _Permit_ column.   _In other words,_ Loki thought, _go on and do what you like to him.  I don’t even care enough to think about it._

He set the contract face down; he needed a moment.  Thor was snoring away, peaceful and oblivious, and Loki crept across the room to sit beside him on the bed.  “You’re an idiot,” he said softly.   _Rack.  Wheel rack.  Cross.  Maiden._ Even a quick glance at these forms should have told Thor more than enough.  What on earth could possess him to sign them?

When the bed dipped Thor twitched in his sleep, and curled up – a defensive posture Loki had never ever thought to see him adopt.  “Mm,” he mumbled.  “Mm-nn.”

Loki winced.  Looked around first, because he felt truly ridiculous and wanted to assure himself that no one was watching.  Then he leaned forward and put a hand on Thor’s waist.  “It’s all right,” he said.  “It’s done, mm-nn, no more hurt.   Go to sleep.  You’re safe now.”

Thor relaxed, which was good, but then recommenced snoring, which grew annoying very quickly.   Loki went back to the table.

The contract was still calling.

_There’s nothing there for **me,**_ he told himself, _but it will tell me at least what might have happened to Thor, and then I’ll know how to take care of him without making him talk about it._ It seemed like a reasonable enough justification.

He flipped the pages again to find the checklist.   As he’d noticed earlier, Odin had approved without restriction the _Methods_ page.  Loki scanned through it, impressed at its thoroughness.  A dozen different beating implements were mentioned by name, but there was also an option for _Beating – All Other,_ with an _Except_ line to specify any tools that were excluded.  (And Odin had excluded nothing.).  _Burning_ was similarly detailed; they could use _Open Flame, Hot Irons, Scalding Liquids, Electricity.  All Other.  Except._

Other entries were a mystery to him; under _Shocking_ he understood _Electrical_ and _Magic,_ but _Free_ was an unknown and he made a note to check the library later.  _Direct Nerve Stimulation_ – whatever that was – sounded clinical and terrifying, and some of the items under _Chemical_ were nearly as bad.  And Odin had marked _Permit_ for all of them.  For all of everything.  _Permit Permit Permit._

He swallowed.  “I should send the creatures a thank-you card,” he murmured.  Feeling lucky for what had _not_ happened to him was a nice change from feeling sickened by what had.

He turned the page and saw with some surprise that Odin had actually taken his time with the next portion.  There were individual items checked and circled, and notes in the margin.  Loki was gratified to notice that while Odin had permitted most of the _Fear_ section, he had written beside it: _Probably of little use._   Loki supposed he agreed; most of the list hardly sounded like tortures to him at all ( _Darkness?_   _Vermin?)_ and while _Mock Drowning_ for instance didn’t sound like fun, it was surely better than drowning in earnest.

Odin had disallowed almost the entire _Humiliation_ category (except for _Nudity_ and _Slapping_ ), and written for emphasis: _Be courteous, talk with rather than at him, give him his name._ In the appalling section labeled _Sex_ , he had prohibited _Rape by Living Creature_ and _Groping_ and _Genital Torture With Sexual Overtones…_ though he had allowed _Genital Torture Without Sexual Overtones,_ and Loki had a sudden need to cup himself protectively.  _Penetration by Object_ was treated in the same way.  Loki firmly didn’t think about it.

Odin had added at the bottom of the page:  _I authorize you to use the above techniques only to the extent that you can do so respectfully.  Punish him for foolish and shallow pride, frighten or embarrass him to make him more tractable if you wish, but the genuine esteem in which he holds himself is not to be disturbed.  He has problems enough in this regard already._

Loki snorted.  “You’re a monster, son,” he said aloud.  “And there’s nothing you can ever do to please me, and I’m sending you away to be butchered.  But please, by no means start to _doubt_ yourself.”

“Loki.”   A sleepy murmur from the bed.

Loki spun around fast.  And removed his hand from his crotch.  “I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.  Go back to sleep.”

He vanished the contract.  Just in time – Thor’s eyes moved over the table in puzzlement.  “What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing.”  Loki laughed.  “Reading poetry.  A very moving piece about the love a father has for his sons.  I’m not done with it yet.  Go back to sleep.”

Thor sighed, and rolled carefully onto his back.   For a bit he was silent.  Then he confessed, to the ceiling: “Things would _happen_ to me when I tried to sleep.”

Of course.  He should have realized.  “Would you like me to knock you out with magic?” he offered, casually.  The less Thor thought it mattered, the more likely he was to cooperate.  “You won’t startle so easily, and you won’t dream.”

Thor heaved a sigh.  “I should be able to sleep on my own.  _Babies_ manage to sleep on their own.”

“Not babies who have just come from a torture chamber.”   Loki got up and crossed the room, and didn’t comment on the way Thor tensed for just a moment.  Wariness was… strange on him.  Thor never had cause to be wary of anything.

“Let me, brother,” he insisted.  “For a few days at least, while the memories are still fresh.  You can train yourself back to normalcy once you’ve rested.  Hm?”

Thor looked away, face dark.  Finally he nodded.

Loki fished his hand out of the covers and held it.  Not strictly necessary for the spell, but touch did sometimes make enchantments stronger.  “Look at me,” he said, and that was not at _all_ necessary for the spell, but he wasn’t about to help Thor pretend that this was shameful.

Thor made eye contact only reluctantly, mouth thin.  “Of course you hate this,” Loki said, with his gentlest smile.  “You’ve always hated all kinds of splints, ever.  It’s all right.” 

“I want to be well,” he growled.  “Now.”

“You’ve been home for a grand total of a couple of hours, Thor,” Loki pointed out.  “It’s a bit early to be feeling impatient.”

“Hmph.”

“I’m going to put you to sleep now, all right?  Are you comfortable?”

Thor wriggled a bit and then relaxed into the bed.  “Yes.  Go on.”  He gripped Loki’s hand firmly and waited.

Loki sketched the rune he needed, and Thor went out like a light.  Then he added another rune, to try and silence the snoring.

**********************************

Loki stayed in the bedroom long past noon the next day because he didn’t want Thor to wake up alone, but he was going stir-crazy and as soon as the snoring transformed itself into intelligible mumbles, he made for the door.   “I’ll send your friends in to keep you company, shall I?”

“Hm?”  Thor moved slowly, stiffly, to roll to his side.  “No,” he gasped, obviously in pain, but he rarely appreciated offers to help and so Loki didn’t make one.  “Let me have some time to dress.”

“Alone?  Or should I stay?”

Thor clenched his fist in the bedding and waited a moment.  “Alone,” he said at last, under much better control.

“All right.  Take your time.  I’ll go see how badly everything’s gone to shit since we’ve been gone.”

He heard petitions, signed documents, fielded questions from worried subjects and friends and even the woman Thor had attempted to take to bed after his birthday party – which seemed a lifetime ago.   He avoided Frigga, because he was too old to run to Mother with every little problem, but he did make a point of stopping by the Allfather’s bedchamber to tell him coldly:  “Your son is safe now.  No thanks to you.”   And when that still wasn’t enough to burn off his anger he added:  “They tortured him – but of course don’t blame yourself for putting the idea of forcible enlightenment into his head; I’m sure he would have thought it up on his own anyway.”  Vicious and more vicious.  “Want to know how he’s doing?  For all I know he’s as mad as I am, and he whimpers in his sleep now like a little child, but don’t worry – I’m taking care of him.  I hope you find that reassuring, Allfather.   And I certainly hope you’re enjoying your nap.  Thor’s mine now.  Sleep well.”

Ah, that felt better.

*******************************************************

It was hours before Thor was dressed and able to walk steadily, but his friends did not bother him until he was ready.  When he finally emerged he found them lurking in the hallway – Volstagg and Hogun at least.  “We’ve been taking it in turns,” Volstagg explained.  “Weren’t sure how long it would be before you came out.”

Thor nodded.  “I need to eat.” 

It was the most reassuring thing he could possibly have said; Volstagg grinned and slapped him on the back (and Hogun wordlessly caught him when he pitched over), and they made their slow way with him down the corridor, swapping stories of battles where people had been hurt much worse than this.  Between those and the difficulty of walking, Thor’s mind was completely occupied.  It occurred to him that it was _better_ this way really, that as long as it took intense concentration to balance upright and put one foot in front of the other, he would have no time or ability to remember anything else.  He wondered if it might not be better to ask Loki to _slow_ his healing rather than speed it up; once he had attention to spare it was likely to wander to…

Things.

“Where’s Fandral?” he said loudly, trying to drown out his own thoughts.  Sif he could do without; Sif had looked at him quite strangely yesterday, worried and almost angry.   She either could not see or did not care that concern was not necessary, and so for the moment at least he would prefer to spend his time with his other friends only.

Volstagg snorted.  “Fandral is probably tucking his dick back in his pants right about now.”

“Likely,” Hogun agreed.  “He has been gone almost three minutes.”

“My friends, you have grown brutal since I left you,” Thor laughed.  “Fandral is-”

“Or he could be prying Sif off that brother of yours.”  Volstagg said it lightly.  Too lightly.  And he wouldn’t make eye contact.

That was ridiculous.  Thor glanced at Hogun to see, but Hogun shrugged at the floor.  “Esteem has grown between them,” he admitted.

“Aye,” Volstagg snorted.  “The kind of esteem that makes a wench share a bed with a man.”

A cleared throat behind them made them whirl – Thor slower than the others, which he hated – to see Fandral and the wench in question.

“Now, that’s not fair,” Fandral protested primly.  “There’s no reason to think anything untoward.  A couple of nights ago Loki was sharing with _me_.”

Volstagg laughed.  “And that’s supposed to convince us that it’s chaste?  All that tells me is that Sif should check herself for diseases, if Loki was in proximity to _you_ before he- _oomph._ ”

Fandral thumped him in the stomach.  “Don’t mind Volstagg, he’s just jealous.”  He threw his arm around – at least, as far around Volstagg’s bulk as it would go.   “Since nobody will ever share a room with _him_ , because he snores like a bear.”

Thor was too busy trying to look healthy to really get involved in the conversation, but Sif seemed to mistake his silence for brooding.  “There’s nothing to any of that, obviously,” she said quietly to him as they continued on down the hall.  “I did share a bed with Loki, because I was worried about you, and he held me like a sister.  That’s all.”

Thor tried to picture Loki holding Sif in any manner besides a chokehold, and the image would not come.   “Of course,” he lied.

“And,” she added, intent on unburdening herself, “There’s also nothing to the talk of me and the frost-giants.  Loki’s friend said I’m _pleasing to look on._ That’s all.  I didn’t even answer him.”

A frost-giant paying Sif a courteous compliment (and Sif allowing it!?)?  That was another event he could not picture.   He _could_ picture pushing Sif out of the way as a frost-giant’s axe whizzed over her head, but…

“I know you’re not silly enough to be jealous anymore,” she went on.  “I just didn’t want to give you any more things to worry about right now.  You have enough on your plate.”

He heaved a sigh.  “Sif, I’m _fine._ ”

“That’s what Loki says too – and look at him.”

“ _Sif._ ”

She was quiet for about two seconds.  Then: “I _am_ a woman, you know,” she sniffed.  Strange – usually she punched people who mentioned that particular fact.  “If I want to fuss a little you’re just going to have to let me.”

He didn’t quite have the energy to argue with her – yet.

****************************************

Loki heard that the king was up and about, raiding the kitchens, and so he excused himself from counsel.  If the king was well enough to raid the kitchens he was well enough to do his own job.   He followed the sound of laughter and ruckus, and walked in just as Fandral put the finishing touches on a stack of small cakes that Volstagg apparently meant to try swallowing whole.

“You have to open the throat, my friend.  Open.”  Fandral was tilting his head back, demonstrating.

“Not going to ask where you learned that.   _I_ think it’s all in the stomach.”  Volstagg let out an enormous belch.  “All about making room first, see?”

Thor and Sif were sitting together on a counter, deep in conversation, and Loki got close enough to hear what they were talking about before they noticed him.   (Magic may or may not have helped with that.)

“Truly?” Thor was saying.  “Are you sure?”

“I said I’m not _sure,_ Thor.  But the giants all laughed when we walked in shivering, whispering among themselves, and I _know_ I heard one say they thought Loki had grown out of this silliness.”   She looked horribly uncomfortable.  “It _sounded_ like he visits them… as a Jotun.  But I couldn’t say for sure.”

“You could ask,” Loki snapped, and pulled off the charm that kept him unnoticed.

Sif’s dagger was halfway out of its sheath before she recognized him.   She was _fast._   “Loki.”

“I’m terribly sorry to have startled you, my lady,” he said, dripping innocence.   He was surprised that Thor didn’t snap orders at him to _be nice,_ but then he looked at Thor and realized Thor wasn’t in much of a state to snap orders at all just now.   He was immediately contrite.  “Brother I didn’t mean to…”

Thor shook his head, short and jerky.  “It’s fine.”  He was gripping the counter hard, breathing hard, but they waited in silence and eventually he relaxed.  “Go on,” he invited at last, gesturing.  “You were sniping at one another…?”

“We’re done,” Sif said into Loki’s eyes, and he couldn’t agree more.  “Thor was just asking about what it’s like going to Jotunheim with you,” she explained, a little sharply.  “Since you never tell anyone anything.”

Loki rolled his eyes and said in Thor’s direction.  “You know perfectly well what it’s like going to Jotunheim: it’s cold and it’s full of Jotuns.  What else is there to tell?”

“Their chief.  The one who’s your relation.”   Thor was using that _look,_ that open and guileless one.  “Sif says you like him.  That you’re friends.”

Loki looked away.  “I… I'm sure I’ve told you that Helblindi is my favorite…”

Thor frowned.  “I’m not even sure you’ve ever used his name.  Besides, given how y-…”  He took a breath and rephrased.  “Given some recent events, I wouldn’t think it takes much to be your favorite Jotun.”

Ah.  He did have a point.  Considering Loki had attempted to murder all of Jotunheim…

“Well, I like him,” he said shortly.  “All right?  I’d have you meet him, except it’s too fucking cold for you at this time of year.  We’ll talk about it when their sun comes again.”

“So invite him here.”

Loki laughed aloud.  “What – a frost-giant in Asgard?”

Sif hummed and looked at her fingernails.  “He wouldn’t be the first.”  

Loki stared at her in amazement – how _dare_ she bring up…

“What?” she insisted, and gestured at him.  “We’ve got one right in front of us.  You could turn blue and keep him company.”

He looked her over and decided that she was serious.  Hadn’t meant any worse than that.  Hadn’t meant to bring up Loki murdering his own _father_ or anyone else.  So he ignored her and turned to his brother.  “Thor, it’s madness.”

“Because _that’s_ always stopped him,” Sif put in.

“Sif!”  Loki pointed, sending her away like a bad dog.  “Go.  Go let Fandral teach you how to open your throat or something.”

Sif hopped down from the counter easily…  but suddenly her dagger was at his neck.  “Say that again and I’ll open yours.”

After she was gone Loki climbed up onto the counter in her place.  His neck stung, but his fingers came away clean and he took that as a sign of affection.

“I truly want to meet your frost-giant friend,” Thor said, as if there had been no interruption.

“Not now, brother.”  Explanations poured out easily enough.  “You just got home and you’re exhausted.  The last thing you need is-”

“-Is to dwell on things that are past,” Thor said over him.  “I would like to stay occupied if you don’t mind.”

A good point, but Loki didn’t care.  “Then you can start by attending your meetings again.  Or pretty soon I’m going to demand a crown of my own; I’m the one doing all the work anyway.”

Somehow, incredibly, that failed to provoke or even distract him.  “Fine.  Meetings are fine.  But in the meantime, bring me your giant.”

“He’s not a, a stone I can just put in my pocket and-”

“ _Invite him to visit, Loki_.  I am serious.”

Clearly.  “Fine, all right.”  Loki held up his hands in surrender – mock surrender; surely he would think of a way to avoid this uncomfortable meeting once he really put his mind to it.  “I’ll invite him.  Your wish is my command after all.”

“Good.”

***************************************

TBC.

Even when Odin is trying to be nice, he pisses me off.  He perceives that Loki has self-esteem issues and cautions the torturers against traumatizing him in that regard... and somehow completely misses that maybe if he treated Loki a litle better Loki wouldn't have doubts about his value in the first place.  (At least *Loki* didn't miss that though.  I'd rather have him be snarly and sarcastic towards Odin that continue pining after his %!@#*& conditional love.)

 


	8. Chapter 8

Thor was adamant about having Helblindi over for a visit.  Not a formal diplomatic visit; in fact, nobody else had to know about it at all.  “I would just like to meet the cousin of my brother,” he declared.  “I sometimes feel I don’t know you, Loki.  And I would like to.  If you would allow it.”   Complete with big wounded eyes. 

Loki had no way to argue with that (especially the eyes, which seemed genuine), so he finally just gave up and went to Jotunheim, hoping that Helblindi would do the sensible thing and decline.

But Helblindi did _not_ decline, at least not right away.  Instead, after Loki explained the invitation there was a long silence and Helblindi just stared at him, and Loki was uncomfortably aware that the last two sets of frost-giants he had invited to Asgard had all ended up dead. 

“I would discuss this,” Helblindi said at last, “Outside of your hearing, Loki-Prince.  Please forgive the insult.”

“There’s no insult,” Loki said quickly.  “Honestly.”  _Please forgive the insult_ was a ritual phrase after which a frost-giant usually slashed his own palm open with ice, to prove that he was actually sorry.  “I’ll wait outside.”

He stepped out, and transformed because the corridor was near cold enough to freeze to death in.  When Helblindi called for him again – not twenty minutes later; how fast _were_ their counsel meetings and why couldn’t Asgard be so efficient? – he reentered the main hall in Jotun form and Helblindi smiled.

“I am pleased to accept your invitation, child.”

And he actually _sounded_ pleased.   Loki had no choice but to act pleased as well; if he tried to talk him out of coming now that would be worse than insult.

He told himself that it would be a few moments of awkward introductions, a quick private dinner, Thor and Helblindi would probably talk about battles or something, and then he would whisk his cousin out of there before anything worse happened.   He told himself that it was silly to think anything would go wrong. 

***************************************

When it was time, he pulled Helblindi through the ether and appeared with him in Asgard’s throne room, which was deserted save for Thor leaning restlessly against the throne.   Loki checked him over quickly and approved: nice clothes, no armor, hammer resting on the ground beside him. 

Helblindi, of course, wore only his usual rags, but he seemed to have put on additional jewelry for the occasion.  He had no way of disarming himself, since he could _grow_ weapons when he needed to, but Loki reminded himself that the trust the giant had shown in following him to this potential death-trap had to be proof enough of good intentions.  

Loki walked him up the steps, noticing with a bit of concern that Thor was growing tense.  “Thor, this is my cousin Helblindi,” he said quickly – too quickly, nervous.  “If you want a title use _Prince,_ but he doesn’t like it.   Helblindi, I believe you know Thor.  Thor’s king now, but he doesn’t stand on ceremony in private.”

The two of them stood in silence, eyes locked, and at last Loki laughed uncomfortably.  “You two wanted to meet each other.  Now you’re meeting.  Say hello.”  He turned and looked over his shoulder, suddenly concerned.  “I’m going to lock the doors; if anybody wanders in they’ll have a heart attack.”

He felt a little guilty leaving Thor alone when Thor was clearly feeling nervous, but he hated awkward silences and besides it really _was_ important to lock the doors.    He went down the steps and partway across the hall, closed his eyes and laid some spells down.

He opened his eyes to the sound of a terrific crash, and spun around to see what it was.  His jaw dropped: in the half minute he’d been occupied, Thor and Helblindi had begun brawling.

“ _What_ – stop, stoppit, what are you _doing_?” he almost shrieked, running towards them.  They ignored him and kept fighting.  Fought harder, even; Helblindi ate an enormous punch and a moment later shoved Thor so hard into the great throne that it rocked and almost tipped over.  “ _I said stop_!”  Loki conjured a powerful spray of water, separating them like angry cats.   Thor went down gurgling, but Helblindi only snarled and froze the stream.  Loki wrapped him in a stiflingly hot current of air and dragged him backwards.

What could possibly have gone wrong already?   He tried to puzzle it out fast.  Helblindi must have offered an ice greeting, with some cryptic Jotun phrase about storms and enemies or something, and Thor had taken it the wrong way and acted before thinking.  As usual.  “Well?” he pressed.  “Thor – what happened?”

Thor got to his feet dripping and coughing – and very slowly.  As much as he liked to pretend he was fine it was clear there were still injuries he was hiding, and fighting with giants was the absolute last thing he should be doing with himself.  But Loki kept quiet for now, and just magicked him dry.  Once he finally managed to stand he said: “I’m sorry, brother – it struck me, and I lost my head.”

“No,” Helblindi growled, softly.  “I would never so insult your hospitality, child.  The Odinson attacked first.”

“Lies!  I will smash your-”

“Thor!”  Loki snapped at him.  “ _You_ requested this.  You said it was to be a friendly meeting _._ ”

“And I tell you this _lying creature_ started a fight with me, and now denies it with the most bald-faced-”

“Thor.”  Loki interrupted with a hand in the air.  He had lived this same conversation so many times in front of the Allfather, and the Allfather had never, ever gotten it right.  “Stop.  I’ve been in enough fights with you myself to know who throws the first punch, brother.  I'm sure you considered yourself provoked, but you cannot just go about hammering everything that doesn't agree with you.” 

“But he-”

Loki continued right over him.  “I don’t know what he said to you, and I don’t care, but taking a swing at him is not the answer.”  He took a deep breath and turned to the frost-giant.  “Cousin, I formally apologize on behalf of our king,” he said.  “Things are difficult between your kind and his.  We must all make allowances.”

Helblindi nodded.  Loki could not read his expression.  “I must have given offense,” he said at last.  “I will better guard my tongue.”

“No.  No, _Thor_ will better guard his temper.  We’ve been over this.”   He stared hard at Thor, _daring_ him to pull rank.  _I’m the king and I can show temper if I like,_ he would say.Or perhaps:  _As your king I order you not to speak another word._   Or maybe that old favorite: _Know your place, brother._

But when Thor spoke it was slow and measured.  “You would… take the part of a frost-giant… over your own brother?”

“My own brother?”  Loki was too agitated to watch his mouth, and the words were out before he could stop himself.  He might have gone on, too… but suddenly there was a cool calming touch on his neck.

“Do not make your choices in anger, child.”

He nodded.  Didn’t say anything else.

Thor turned and stormed away.

**********************************************

As soon as he was gone Loki began to miss him, and to make excuses.  “Thor’s arguments often turn violent,” he explained.  “Don’t take it personally – it’s just the way he argues.”

“I know.”

“Next time he sees you he’ll probably apologize and try to give you a hug.”

“I think he will not hug one such as me.”  Helblindi’s tone was bland.

“You’re probably right.  But don’t take it personally,” Loki said again.  “He’s called me _lying creature_ more times than I can count.”

“Does he call you _it_?”

Loki had nothing to say to that.

“Loki,” Helblindi said after a long silence, “The Asgardian told you true: I did provoke him.  And I struck him first, as he says.”

Loki blinked.  Many times.  “ _What_?”

“I wished to see you judge between us.  It was not for selfish reasons: for the good of my people, I had to learn whether your mind has been poisoned by Asgard’s hate.”

Loki tried to wrap his mind around it.  “You- you set that whole thing up,” he managed at last.

“Yes.”

“You _lied_ to me.”  He felt confused, nervous, the back of his neck prickled.  He _hated_ lies. 

“Yes.”

“But-… but I believed you.  I am an idiot.”  He realized he was speaking his thoughts aloud, and stopped.  His next words were carefully considered.  “I understand your need to test me, but this is not good.  My brother is liable to be seriously upset with me.”

“Yes.  I hope you will forgive me; if not, I will remain unforgiven.”  He shrugged.  “I had to know.”

“I need to go find Thor.  Now.”  Panic was rising.  The feeling of having wronged Thor was… hideous.  He had to get rid of it.  “I need to apologize.”

“I understand.  Would you like me to make apology to the Odinson as well?”

“I'd like you to fucking-!”  _Do not make your choices in anger._ Loki took a deep breath and revised himself.  “No, thank you.  Just stay here, all right?  I'll be back.  Try not to get into any more fights before then.”

********************************************

Thor stood alone in a field.  Loki wondered for a moment if he had chosen the place specifically for the picture he would present – tall and golden in a field of tall gold grass, one foot raised up on a rock, one hand knocking the hammer softly against his leg.

In better days Loki would have played a prank on him: spoiled the scene by spraying him with paint perhaps, or by releasing a couple of bilgesnipes.  Something fun.

But they were older now, and things more serious between them, and so Loki just trudged across the field trying not to sneeze.  (He had always thought that plants did not agree with him.  But now he thought, for the first time, that perhaps it was only _Asgard’s_ plants that did not agree with him.  The ice-flowers of Jotunheim never tickled his nose in this way.  _Even their plants don’t like me,_ he thought.  With an odd kind of satisfaction.)

“Thor.”  He called it from far away.  Thor was easily startled lately, and the last thing anyone needed was a hammer to the face.

Thor’s head rose and he nodded, then raised a hand to beckon over his shoulder.

Loki approached hesitantly – contrition was still new and he was feeling his way along with care.  But Thor misunderstood his hesitation.  “I’m not going to hit you, brother.”  He gave a short laugh.  “You wouldn’t take it as well as the giant anyway.”  

Out of nowhere rage was blooming up and suddenly he was lost to it.  The meadow became unbearably stifling and his skin prickled and he realized _he was changing_ without his own fucking permission.

He took a deep breath and settled back into his Aesir form.  Apologizing would have to wait; this was a fight worth having first.   “ _The giant_ has a name, Thor.”  But his voice was too deep, the Jotun growl not quite out of it yet, and Thor stiffened and turned to face him.

Loki cleared his throat.  “I’m-… sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean… that.”

“You mean you didn’t mean…”  Thor touched himself on the neck.

He nodded.  “I’m not losing control,” he promised quickly, the worry spilling out as fast as he thought it up.  “It’s just I’ve been changing back and forth a lot lately, and just now I got angry on Helblindi’s behalf, and I…  But I caught it.”

“Mm.”  Thor dropped the hammer by his side and crossed his arms.  “I know the giants have names,” he said at last.  Still visibly spoiling for a fight.  “So do the elves.  So does everyone.  But there’s nothing wrong with calling them what they are, brother.”

 _Brother_.  The absurdity made it impossible to get really angry; all Loki did was nod and say: “You’re absolutely right, Asgardian.  I’ll keep it in mind from now on.”

Thor’s demeanor changed at once.  He looked… shocked.  Sick even.  “Loki-…”  He turned away.

 _That_ was odd and beyond odd; Loki had expected at best an eye-roll.  He’d thought perhaps Thor might not even notice – sarcasm generally sailed right over his head.

Loki frowned at his back.  “Thor?  Brother?  Are you… all right?”  He stayed where he was and watched the broad shoulders rise and fall, fast and even, as if Thor were fighting hard to control himself.

Was he _that_ angry?  Over what?

“Thor?” he said again.  Finally just admitted: “You’re worrying me.  What’s the matter?”

Thor took an especially deep breath and held it.  Finally he said: “They would…” and shook his head.

They?  Loki put it together almost at once.   His own papers from the dungeon had specified that the Drones were to _give him his name,_ as if such a thing were unusual, and apparently Thor hadn’t received that same courtesy.  _Asgardian,_ they’d called him.  Anonymous, as if he didn’t _merit_ a name, because it certainly wasn’t that they couldn’t remember it!  They knew every last detail of his existence.

“I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know.”  Loki stepped up and locked his arms around Thor’s waist from behind.  He would excise that from his vocabulary immediately; to be safe he would also stop making comments about _you Asgardians,_ although he seemed to remember saying it once or twice over the last few days and Thor had taken it generally in stride.  Still.  “I absolutely won’t upset you like that again.”

Thor let himself be hugged a moment.  Then:  “The reminder merely startled me.  I’m not upset.”

“Of course you’re not.”  Loki let go and stepped away.  “And you’re not stubborn either.”

“Mind your tongue, Loki.”  Thor fetched up his hammer and hooked it back on his belt.  “You interrupted me in the middle of a fight, and my blood is still boiling.”

“Ah… About that.”  Loki bit his lip.  “Helblindi hit you first.  You were telling the truth.”

Thor laughed.  “I know I was telling the truth.”

“Well-….   _I_ didn’t know.  He told me afterwards.  And so I apologize; I had it wrong.”

Thor cocked his head.  “He told you?  I don’t understand.”

“He caused a problem between you because he was… testing me.  For favoritism.”  Loki felt a bitter smile and just let it happen.  “I used to do it all the time to Father,” he admitted.  “Father always failed.”

Thor held his arm out and Loki went to him – with apprehension; one hug was more than enough for a day.  But Thor wasn’t hugging, he was only holding Loki by his side so that they could walk back together, and that was a convenient arrangement because it made eye contact impossible.  Loki wondered if he had done that on purpose.

“I hope you know I wasn’t lying,” Thor said after a moment.  “When we were boys.”

“You mean, when you always said that the trouble was my fault, or that I had started it, or that-”

“Yes.  That,” Thor interrupted.  “I wasn’t lying.  It always _did_ seem like you started it somehow.  You were always provoking me.”

“By what – _breathing_?”

“By… by saying nasty things to me, by playing mean little tricks, by… _looking_ at me, in that way you had…”

“By looking at you.”  Loki repeated it flatly.  He had been _looking_ at Thor wrong – that explained why Thor had _twice_ almost drowned him, or refused to let him come on excursions unless he carried all the tents, or made him wear that disgusting molding mask and be the troll whenever they played battles.  Looking.

But Thor did not give any ground.  “You knew perfectly well you were picking fights, Loki, and _that_ is the truth, whether you will admit it or not.”

He pursed his lips and didn’t answer.  Thor took it for the admission it was, and squeezed him.

All this affection was starting to feel crowding, so Loki growled: “Get off.  Or I’ll get Helblindi to come and knock you on your ass again.”

But if that was really meant to annoy Thor – and he was not sure it was – it failed.  Thor’s laugh was loud and genuine.  “I’ll have you know I was winning that fight.”

“He was pulling his punches,” Loki said, though he had no idea.  “I’ve wrestled him; I know.”

“Of course he was,” Thor said, more seriously.  “So was I.”

“What?”  It certainly hadn’t _looked_ that way.  “Your mouth is bleeding and I think you broke his nose.”

Thor shrugged it off.  “The blows perhaps were in earnest, but from the beginning your giant was taking care, brother – his touch hardly burned.  I put Mjolnir down as soon as I noticed.  For fairness’s sake.”

Loki realized then for the first time that Thor should have been _ravaged_ by frostbite; his extremities should be falling off and those reddish handprints on his shoulders should have frozen his flesh black.  “Are you all right?” he thought to ask, for the first time.

“I’m fine.  And I forgive you for misjudging – as angry as I was, I do understand.  Generally I _do_ strike first, as you said.  Your suspicion was reasonable.”

 _Just like Odin’s,_ he thought, out of nowhere.  _How many times was the mischief my fault for true?_

But that was not a thought he was ready to think just yet, and he turned his mind to a different problem entirely. 

“Thor.  We have to talk about something.”

Thor finally let go of him and walked by his side without touching.  Perhaps he could tell from Loki’s tone that it was going to be nothing good.  “Certainly.”

“I need you to be a little more, erm, tolerant of the frost-giants,” he said evenly.  “Aside from the unfortunate fact that _I am one,_ I’m also concerned that you’re going to cause some sort of diplomatic incident by referring to people from other realms as _it_ to their faces.”

“Did I-?”  Thor seemed _surprised,_ which made it much worse.  If he had meant to insult it would have been easy to write off; they said terrible things to each other in anger all the time.

“You did.  Try your best not to do it again.  Hm?”

“You have my word.”  He was silent a moment.  “I’m still getting used to all this, Loki.”

_So am I._

Thor heard what he didn’t say.  “And I haven’t had the benefit of frost-giant kin and vacations in Jotunheim to help me.”

Loki snorted.  “I don’t know about calling _frost-giant kin_ a benefit, but for what it’s worth you have me.  I’ll take you to Jotunheim when the weather’s warmer – if Helblindi will have you.  He welcomed Sif.”

“Indeed.  I heard about that.”  Thor’s grumbling sounded genuine, which made Loki laugh. 

They both relaxed.  “Is your cousin still here, Loki?” Thor asked after a moment.  “Or did he go home?”

“There will be no second round, Thor.  The fight is over.”

Thor ignored him.  “Because I want to invite him out tonight.  Fighting and drinking are an excellent beginning to a friendship, and Helblindi and I are already halfway there.”

***********************************************

Out of politeness Loki conveyed the offer, but he was convinced it would be easiest for everyone if Helblindi just packed up (or not; he had no luggage) and went home.

Unfortunately Helblindi didn’t agree; the invitation seemed to intrigue him.  “An Asgardian tavern,” he mused slowly.  “No Jotun has gone to such a place, for many generations.  Save for you, child.”

“You’re not missing much.  Honestly.”

Helblindi ignored him.  “I wish to go – if the Odinson truly wishes to have me.  It is custom in some realms to make invitation and hope for polite refusal.”

Loki considered.  “I wouldn’t say all of Asgard is as sincere as Thor,” he said at last, “But _his_ invitation, at least, is genuine.”

“Then I accept.  Shall I go as I am?”  He held up a huge blue hand and turned it in the light.

“Ah… I could disguise you,” Loki offered.  But perhaps that was insulting?  “Or you could just go as you are, and take your chances.  I have no idea what people would do if a frost-giant walked into a tavern; it’s never happened.  There would likely be an enormous brawl, which I’m sure would leave Thor delighted.”

“Never happened,” Helblindi echoed, and hesitated.  “Does no one know what you are?  Truly?”

Loki shook his head. “Whoever had care of me as a baby, I suppose, if they still live.  Thor’s friends know.  And perhaps one or two of the healers.  The rumor doesn't seem to have spread; I think it strikes people as simply too ridiculous to be true.”

“Ridiculous?  Why?”

_Because it’s known that I slew the frost-giant king in Odin’s bedchamber.  Because it’s suspected that I had some part in turning the Bifrost into a weapon against them.  Because no one spoke out against those **monsters** as loudly as me.  Because Thor hails me as brother and nobody is brothers with a frost-giant.  Because no attempt I make to change people’s opinions would ever be successful, and so I’m making no attempt at all._

He shrugged and said with a vague little smile.  “I’ve lived my whole life as a son of Odin.”

“Mm.”  Helblindi didn’t pry.  He only nodded and said calmly: “You will disguise me so that I can walk through Asgard in peace.  Tonight, we three will drink together.  Thor and you and I.”  He paused.  Rumbled with laughter.  “And perhaps you can prevail upon the Lady Sif to come along.”

*************************************************

TBC.

In vino veritas.  Uh-oh. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My tavern is serving in giant mugs. It seems more convenient than horns. (Do you always chug a horn, or is there some way to put it down without spilling? Do they come with little stands?)

 

**************************************

Before dressing for the evening, Thor stood in front of a mirror and appraised himself honestly.   He still felt far from his full strength, but his condition looked to be improving.

Much of his muscle tone had returned (if it had ever been gone.  Loki had assured him from the start that no weakness was visible, but he had put that down to comfort and flattery.).    The lumps on his ribs had smoothed out, save for one that had been there for years.  He ran his fingers over it, but could not tell whether it protruded more now than before.

If he turned his head to the side and moved his hair, he would still be able to see the pink of scars left by that hateful collar.  He didn’t.

His injured joints were healing all as usual.  The incredible soreness of his overtaxed muscles was likewise fading in predictable patterns – but slowly.  He had never been so sore or strained in all his life.  The lingering pain electricity had left, elsewhere than his mouth, had finally resolved itself – which profoundly relieved him; he had not been able to face the embarrassment of asking Loki or any of the healers for help.

And the whip marks were all gone, save for one that had cut across his knee, splitting the skin in a place that stretched open when he walked.    That one would certainly scar.  Just as he knelt to examine it, someone rapped on the doorway behind him.

“May I come in, brother?  Do you need a hand?”

He did not, but he took the proffered hand anyway – Loki had come for the sole purpose of tending him and he ought to show appreciation.  “Thank you, brother.”

Loki seemed almost flustered.  “Right.  Well, again, those marks – I can wipe away anything you don’t want reminder of.”

Thor pulled on his underclothes and thought it over.  Finally he held out his arm and touched the large puckered scar inside his elbow.  “Perhaps I’ve worn this long enough,” he suggested.   “Do you agree?”

He thought it a very clever gesture of peace, inviting Loki to wipe away an old wound he had dealt.

But Loki looked puzzled.  “That’s been there as long as I can remember.  What’s it from?”

He gaped.  “Loki… you gave it to me.”

Still no glimmer of recognition.

“The fire-lizard?” he prompted.  “That you let loose in my bedchamber?  You don’t remember?  Of course you remember.  It was after our-”

“ _That_?”  Loki snatched his wrist and yanked him closer.  “Is _that_ where this came from?  Are you serious?”  He touched the patch and then recoiled, wiping his hands uncomfortably.  “I- I had no idea the thing actually _burnt_ you,” he stammered.  “Why didn’t you say something?  I could have- or you could have gone to the healers...”

He told himself that it was long past time to move beyond the foolish pride of a foolish boy.  “I was ashamed that I couldn’t subdue the creature myself,” he admitted.  “It was a week before I could even bring myself to tell anyone it was there.  I swore Fandral to secrecy and he helped me capture it.”

Loki let out a bark of incredulous laughter.  “You slept for a _week_ with a baby dragon under your bed?”

Thor nodded, and elected not to confess that _he_ had actually slept under the bed, because it had seemed safer, while the dragon prowled around in the darkness.  He also did not confess that he’d eventually given the creature a name: Loki Flametongue, since it seemed to share his brother’s temperament and fondness for sweets.  (He’d begun feeding it on the third day, as soon as it occurred to him that hunger was likely to make it even more vicious than it was already.)

“I am _terribly_ sorry,” Loki said… full of mirth.

So Thor held his arm out with more insistence.  “This was very painful, and aggravated by my every movement,” he said.  “It took weeks to heal.”

“Come on, Thor.”  Loki rolled his eyes.  “You know I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“And yet it did.”  Now, finally, he understood why the Teachers had asked him about this scar – and about half a dozen others Loki had caused.  He had thought the questions were meant to confuse him, to make him doubt the love of his own brother…  but now the pieces fell squarely into place.  “We have hurt one another in more ways than we know,” he said.   He wore Loki’s miscalculations – and rages – all over his body.  And it stood to reason that the reverse was true as well.

“Ah.”  Loki did not argue, only took his arm and touched the spot.  “Not all wounds are as easily visible as this.  Or as easily erased.”

“Loki-”

“Now this will hurt,” Loki said over him.  “Sorry.” 

As if he needed it, here was yet more proof that he and Loki differed greatly in their understandings of _hurt;_ the searing flash of magic was over quickly and bothered him not at all.  Afterwards he flexed the arm and looked at the new unblemished skin.

He felt much better for having spoken.  Secrets were poison.

It occurred to him suddenly that if the frost-giant had really found a place in Loki’s heart – which it _had,_ as unpleasant as that was to admit – then it might be wise to begin clearing the air with him as well.   They had never really sat down and discussed the Stupidity… and there had been more than enough secrets kept from the Jotuns, for more than long enough.

*******************************************

Since it was easiest to manufacture disguise in a form he knew, and safest if Helblindi was generally ignored, Loki wove magic around his cousin to give him Hogun’s form instead.   Hogun was only too happy to avoid a night of drunkenness, and it would look strange to no one that Thor was heading out for a night of carousing with his brother and his friends.

The others were already there when Loki and Helblindi entered the tavern.  “Ho, Loki,” Fandral called from the corner table.  Beckoned.  With a smile. 

Once they were seated Loki looked around to make sure nobody was listening to the conversation.  Then he said, quietly: “This is my cousin Helblindi.  Helblindi, these are my brother’s friends.  You remember Sif.  That’s Fandral, that’s Volstagg, and there would be a third, Hogun, only you’re currently wearing him.  A drink?”

He nodded.  “Thor.  Lady Sif.  Fandral and Volstagg.  Greetings.”

“Please, don’t _lady_ me.”  Sif gave a friendly smile.  “It’s good to see you.  Well… not _see_ you, but…” she shrugged.  “Loki and I owe you thanks for your help in directing us the other day.”

Helblindi inclined his head.

“I would have thanked you then,” Sif went on, “But my breath was freezing in my lungs.  Was that temperature usual, or did we just pick a bad time to visit?”

Loki stared in amazement.  Sif had always claimed she’d been raised to behave like a civilized lady, but he had never seen it until now. 

“Jotunheim is always cold,” Helblindi said.  “Aesir would rarely be comfortable there.”

“Aesir aren’t comfortable a lot of places,” Loki put in.  Better to steer the conversation himself; otherwise, who knew what the Idiots might say?   “Remember the time we tried to go to Muspelheim?”

“Aye.”  Volstagg rolled his eyes, chuckling.  “Thor’s fault, that.”

“Actually, the idea came from that one right there.”  Thor pointed with his mug to Loki, and then drank deep.  “Like most bad ideas of our youth.”

Sif snorted.  “I believe it.  Because I remember that when our hair caught fire and our armor started melting, _who_ again was still standing safe by the portal?  Didn’t cross the threshold at all, as I recall.”

Loki shrugged.  “I think I may have put a toe in.”

“Your cousin’s a terrible menace,” Fandral said to Helblindi.  “Always has been.  This is the _friendliest_ I’ve seen him, though,” he said, with a touch of seriousness.  “You’re good for him.”

“Oh, stop,” Loki protested.

“You are.  I’m glad you’ve come out with us,” Fandral went on.  “Maybe you can teach us a drinking song we don’t already know.”

Loki worried that Helblindi would not like to be put on the spot, so he intervened.  “My cousin is almost as sparing with his words as the real Hogun.  Let him alone – if we need singing we always have Sif.”

“We’ll see _you_ sing when I kick you in the balls,” Sif said into her glass, then looked up to give Loki a serene smile.

Helblindi growled laughter – a strange, alien sound coming from Hogun’s chest.  “There is a way to ice over your soft parts for protection, child,” he purred.  “Perhaps I should teach you.”

“ _What?_ ”  Fandral banged his drink on the table.  “There are _so many_ questions I need to ask about that.”

Laughter all around.  Loki was amazed how easy it was, how the circle of Thor’s friends had expanded effortlessly to include a total stranger – and not just any stranger, but a foreigner.  An enemy.  A Jotun _monster_.   How was this possible?  (And if it was so easy, how had he never been able to get along with Thor’s friends himself?) 

Loki was powerfully jealous all of a sudden, but he held his tongue.  _It would be worse if they **weren’t** nice to him,_ he reminded himself, and tried to just be glad.

*********************************************

It was only once the warriors left, leaving Loki alone with the drunken princes (prince _and king,_ he reminded himself, even though the thought of Thor as King still jarred), that things grew more difficult.

“Can’t you take that spell off him,” Thor complained thickly, gesturing.  “It’s difficult to talk face-to-face to someone who’s not actually wearing his own face.”

“Oho, is it?”  Loki laughed.  Thor didn’t seem to understand anything by the comment.  “Very well.  Helblindi, if you like, I think I can shield us.”  The table was not so loud now, and the tavern’s other patrons were drunker and less observant.

Helblindi shrugged.   So Loki magicked a haze around them to keep them safe from notice, and then uncast the disguise.

The giant took a slow sip of mead and licked his lips.  “This drink tastes better now.”

“Perhaps Jotun taste buds are less discerning,” Loki mused.  “Or perhaps you’re just more drunk.”

Thor looked from one to the other.  “It’s so strange, Loki,” he said.  “You know.  That you’re…”

“Indeed.”  What little social grace Thor had vanished completely when he drank.  How had Loki overlooked that critical fact?  This evening was a terrible idea.

“So you two are family,” Thor went on.   Sipped.  “And he’s older.  Helblindi!  Did you know Loki as a baby?”

Loki slapped himself in the forehead.  “Thor, don’t.”

Helblindi cocked his head in question and Loki did his best to produce a forbidding look.  It was not sufficient.

“I did,” the giant said at last.

“How was he?  Tell me about my little brother.”

Helblindi threw one more look Loki’s way, then settled back in his seat.  “Awful,” he rasped.  “I cannot imagine a child more troublesome, of any race.”

Thor snorted.  “Go on.  I want to hear this.”  He reached across the table to take Loki by the shoulders and shake him, and Loki tolerated it because if he resisted Thor might well get up and force him into a full-fledged hug. 

He rolled his eyes and finally waved permission for the storytelling.   Clearly, it was going to happen whether he gave permission or not.

“He had an angelic smile,” Helblindi explained, smiling a little himself.  “People would want to pick him up, and hold him close.”

“Oh, how _darling_.”  Thor reached to pinch his cheek, and this time Loki slapped his hand away.

“… And when they did, he would shapeshift,” Helblindi continued.  “Into a slavering beast with fangs and claws.”

Loki was surprised into laughter.  “I like that!”  His baby self sounded delightful.

“Your caretakers did not.  You gouged chunks of flesh from every one of them.  You made unholy screaming noises in the night, for the sole purpose of disturbing their sleep.”

Loki could feel himself grinning like an idiot.  “I’m sure they deserved it.  Probably denied me candies or something.”

“You once climbed the throne room wall, and iced yourself into a crack in the ceiling.  It took two days to retrieve you; you would not thaw nor let go, and everyone feared breaking your fingers.”

Thor was laughing too, and amazingly, Loki didn’t mind.  “Any idea why I did that?”

“You delighted in fuss and chaos.   Laufey-King at last directed us all to ignore you, and then you came down.”

He wished suddenly to see himself as a wicked blue baby.   “Do you have portraits in Jotunheim?” he asked.  “Is there a gallery somewhere, where I could…?”

Helblindi looked confused.  “Portraits?”

“Paintings.  Pictures.  Statues, even.  Do you have no way of seeing people from the past?”

The giant shook his head.  “We see those people in memory, child.  We need no pictures.  And of what value is a likeness of what you do not remember?”

Thor’s glass smashed to the floor, empty (again).  “You Jotuns are so strange,” he slurred.  Boozy and affectionate.  “Shall we have another?”

“No,” said Loki.

“Yes,” said Helblindi.

“We’re _all_ having another one,” Thor decided.  “You as well, Loki.  I’m your elder brother, I can order drinks for you if I wish.”  He lurched to his feet.  “But first I have to piss.”

Loki watched him stagger away.  “All this _elder brother_ business,” he said quietly to Helblindi.  “I rather think he’s jealous.”

“He has more cause for jealousy than he knows.”

It was one of those Jotun not-questions again.  Loki made a face and answered it.  “He knows that you and I are blood-related, but no: he does not know how.”

“Mm.”  Helblindi tipped his head back and poured the rest of his drink down his throat.  He was quiet a moment.  Then: “I will tell him.”

“ _What_?”  Loki choked on the sip he was taking.  “No. No, cousin _please_ don’t do that.  It will upset him – and me.   He’s still… we’re still… Helblindi _don’t_.”

The crimson eyes gleamed in the dim light.  Like gemstones.  Or like little pools of blood.  Loki could not read his face.  “You are free to do what you like with your truths, child,” he said calmly.  “You may hoard them if that is your wish.  But I am free to do what I like with mine.”

“Why?” Loki pressed.  “What good can that possibly do you, what benefit could you possibly-”

He was interrupted by a shower of mead.  “Hello, friends!”  Thor had returned, with large mugs, spilling everywhere.

“That was fast,” Loki said.  He took his drink and began to gulp at it.  Perhaps he could make himself drunk enough not to care.

“Well, the street is not far from the door.”  Thor clunked glasses with Helblindi and started drinking as well. 

Loki had chugged only a few swallows’ worth, though, when a sudden panic overtook him and he had to lower his glass and gasp for air.  _No no no no no,_ he told himself, loudly, but he could hear the voices anyway.  _Drink, Loki.  You did not finish._   He ached, those phantom cramps he had come to know so well… or perhaps this was _real_ pain this time, brought on by guzzling too much alcohol over the course of the evening.    Surely that was all.  His stomach heaved weakly… but he rode it out, and when it was certain he was not going to throw up he sat back with a satisfied sigh.  There: he was recovering his ability to make himself ill with drink.  Excellent.

Thor was sitting back too, having drained most of his glass already.  “Do you have children of your own, Helblindi?”

Helblindi’s gaze lowered at once.  He looked deeply, immensely sad to Loki’s eye, and even Thor was able to tell that something was wrong. 

“I- I meant no offense,” Thor added quickly, “I don’t know your age, or, or if it’s usual for, for your kind to-…  I don’t know what I’m talking about.  I beg pardon.  I only wondered.”

Helblindi toyed with his glass.  “No.  I would not be allowed,” he said quietly.  “I am not fit to have children.”

“What?  What does that mean?  Says who?” Thor pressed.

Helblindi was clearly in distress, and Loki knew it was not kind to pursue this topic.  But it was better than letting him tell Thor about their shared parentage, so…  “Forgive our ignorance, cousin – we don’t understand.  In Asgard anyone may have children, fit or not.  Would you explain?”

“I was too young to fight in the War,” Helblindi said down to the table.  “I was to care for my small brother instead.  I failed to protect him when the Asgardians came.  It was decided that I should never have charge of a child again.”

So much for not discussing the shared parentage.  _Small brother_ could only mean…  “You were-…?  Were you there?  Did you see what happened?”

Helblindi nodded.

“My friend, I am so sorry.”  Thor’s voice was thick with more than drink.  He reached out to clasp Helblindi’s shoulder, and steam rose from his hand but he either did not notice or did not care.  “I cannot imagine feeling the pain of losing a brother.  The idea alone tears at my heart.”

Loki leaned over to separate them.  “Let _go,_ you idiot,” he snarled.   The burn was severe and he was still shielding the table from prying eyes, so he had to pull hard for power to heal it.  Afterwards he felt himself starting to weaken.  “We should leave,” he said.  “If my spell fails we’ll have a riot on our hands, and I’m getting tired.”

They rose.  Thor attempted several times to embrace Helblindi, who had grown too uncoordinated to control his body temperature at all, and it took all of Loki’s attention to keep them physically separate from one another during the walk back to the palace.  By the time they finally arrived, he was exhausted and the liquor had gone firmly to his head.

“May I take you home in the morning?” he said.  “I know you meant to leave tonight, but gods help us if I step into the ether and get lost.”

Helblindi chuckled.  “Wisdom.   I will chill a corner for sleep.”

Loki helped him, and together they clumsily, drunkenly froze part of the bedroom. 

“Loki,” Thor complained from the bed, half-asleep already, as snowy air swirled over him.  He flailed for blankets.

Loki climbed in next to him and waited for the world to stop spinning. 

“Make it warmer,” Thor was whining.  “And remind me to talk to your cousin again in the morning.  I want to talk to him again.  I’m not done talking to him.”

Loki warmed the space under their covers and assured _of course of course,_ but he decided that there would be _no_ further discussion between Thor and Helblindi under any circumstances.

It took him some time to fall asleep; it turned out that two sets of snoring was even worse than one.

***************************************

TBC.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! I was super busy last week. Also, I was playing with the Thor/Loki scene for a while, trying to get it into Loki’s POV… but I really wanted Thor’s view on his Dragon Adventure, so…


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter got *way* too long, so I’m posting half today and half Thursday. First half is Thor trying his hand at diplomacy, in a manner of speaking. Second half is Helblindi tellin it like it is.

 

********************************

_…You can still hear and see what transpires around you.  Even though nobody can hear or see **you**.  Loki.  Can you hear me?  Loki-_

“-do you wake?  Loki?”

Loki jerked up, registered _frost-giant_ and lashed out wildly with magic.  Helblindi was flung backwards through the air – Loki was already apologizing – and landed with a crash.   Thor awoke in the commotion.

And the bedroom door flung open.  In rushed a guard.  “My king?  Prince Loki?  Is everything-”  The guard’s jaw dropped at the sight of a frost-giant in the palace of Asgard, rising to its feet, in the very bedroom of the king.  He started to draw his sword, and Loki felt the temperature drop as Helblindi prepared to defend himself.  He heard ice-blades forming.

“Stop,” he barked, and threw the covers off.  He jumped down to the floor and in two strides was between them.  “ _You,_ ” he growled to the guard.  “You woke us.  King Thor is sleeping off a party last night; how _dare_ you wake him before he is ready.”

The guard’s eyes darted back and forth.  Loki.  The giant over his shoulder.  Thor.  Loki.  The giant.  _Loki_.

Very gratifying, to know that he could terrify even better than a king or a Jotun when he wanted to.  He advanced, and the guard backed out through the doorway.   On a flash of inspiration, he gestured behind him.  “ _That’s_ the last guard who disturbed our rest,” he said.  “Do you like what I’ve done with him?  Shall I do it to you as well?”  He started to transform himself, and let out a low rumbling laugh at the guard’s expression of horror.  “I think it’s rather fun.”

The guard dropped his weapon and knelt so fast the floor shook.  “Loki please.  Please forgive me, I did not- I did not mean-… please, prince please have mercy.”

Stuffing himself so quickly back into his own skin hurt, but Loki wasn’t quite brave enough to parade his Jotun form through Asgard just yet.  So he grit his teeth and did it, and once he was firmly small and pale and Aesir again, said: “Shall I turn you into a mouse instead?”

“Please.”

Despite the disaster that had nearly unfolded, Loki was feeling amused.  “Please turn you into a mouse?  Or please _don’t_ turn you into a mouse?  Did you have another creature in mind?  How would you like to live out your days as a dwarf?”

“Loki.”  Thor was finally out of bed and beside him, hammer in hand.  In his underwear.  “Don’t torment him, brother.  And you.”  He reached down to tap sharply on the guard’s helmet.  “My brother’s point is a valid one.  Whatever business you have can wait until after I’ve dressed.”

“I-… my king, I only, I heard a noise, a crash…”

“Oh?  And are you my mother, to tell me that I may not make noise and disturb the household?”

“N-no, my king…”

Loki cleared his throat.  “I could _turn_ him into Mother, if you like,” he suggested, but Thor cuffed him upside the head.

“Enough, Loki.”

Loki pantomimed a key over his mouth and rolled his eyes.   His Jotun skin was cold enough to burn.  If he could learn the trick of that chill in his usual form, nobody would ever dare lay a hand on him again without permission.  Hm.

Thor was standing with his arms crossed, rumpled and grouchy and still half-asleep.  It was endearing, and Loki immediately decided against making himself untouchable, because then how would he and his brother ever communicate?

The guard finally dared to look up.  “I am sorry, my king.  My prince.   I will never again enter your chambers without permission.  May I…”  he leaned over, still on his knees, to look past them.  “May I take my comrade to the healers now?  To see him returned to his true form?”

 _That_ would be interesting.  Loki was sorely tempted to agree, just to see what the healers would make of Helblindi when all Reversion spells failed… 

But he was feeling far too mature today to act on the impulse.   “I am perfectly capable of undoing my own magic,” he said loftily.  “When I have finished chastising the poor man that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Thor gestured the guard to his feet.  “You may go.”

Loki smiled.  “Now.”

**************************************

Once the door was safely closed again – and spelled, now that Loki was sober enough to do it – Helblindi relaxed.  “I am sorry,” he said. 

“It was my fault.”  Loki winced.  “Cousin, I apologize – you frightened me.   I was dreaming.”

Helblindi nodded.  “Of Laufey-King.  You spoke his name.”

That could be problematic.  He tried to sound casual.  “Oh.  Did I say anything else?”  

“ _Laufey,_ and _please_.  Nothing more.”  He shrugged.  “I should return.  My people will worry.”

 _Our_ people, Loki almost corrected.  For a moment he didn’t like being excluded from the Jotun collective.  Although on second thought he certainly didn’t want to be a part of it either.  “Of course.”

“Thor-King.”  Helblindi gave a slow shallow bow.  “It has been my honor and pleasure to visit your realm as your guest.  Will you visit me in turn?”

“Yes of course!  I’d like that,” Thor said with enthusiasm.

Oh he _would,_ would he?  Hmm.   “Come on, cousin,” Loki said.  “I’ll take you home.”  And he grabbed _both_ their hands, and pulled them all into Jotunheim together.

******************************

The cold hit like a wave.  “Loki!”   Thor doubled up at once, arms wrapped around himself, air frozen so hard he couldn’t even breathe it in.

He was going to freeze to _death_ here – freeze to death in his underpants.  “Loki,” he forced out again, harsh and cracking.

And then a hot wind whipped around him.  “All right, all _right._ ”  Loki’s hands – in fur gloves now – sketched runes and patterns, warming a pocket of air.  “Sorry about that.  You _did_ say you wanted to come, didn’t you?”

Loki’s look of contrition was entirely pretend, and his eyes sparkled with a mischief Thor had not seen in far too long.  “Well, I thank you for granting my wish.  Only perhaps I would have preferred to arrive fully clothed, given the option.”  He forced himself to stand straight, although his instinct in the swirling snow was still to curl up and whimper.  “Prince Helblindi, I’m very sorry to have shown up at your home in such a state,” he called over the blizzard.  “It was not my intention.” 

Helblindi seemed amused.  “My invitation was genuine,” he said.  The Jotun’s deep voice carried effortlessly, clear underneath the whistling wind.  “Be welcome.”  Then he turned to frown at Loki.  “Give him your furs, child.  Your true flesh has no need of them.”

Loki bit his lip and Thor suddenly surged with protectiveness.   Surely the giant _knew_ how shy Loki was about his… state.  It was unkind to press him with such language _._

So he cleared his throat.  “Do as he says, brother,” he said.  “Or I’ll freeze to death.”

This reason sat much better, and Loki nodded and shed his layers without delay.  “I’ll spell some heat into this, it should keep you comfortable for a while,” he murmured as he adjusted the cloak over Thor’s shoulders.   He gave him some pants.  Magicked him boots.  “There.  Now, if you’ll pardon me…”

He stepped back and _melted_ himself away, and became a frost-giant.  Thor did his best not to stare.

“Better,” Helblindi said.  “Your face suits you.  Now come – I will introduce your brother.”

Thor followed, struggling a little through the soft knee-deep snow, paying so much attention to not falling that it was some time before he noticed the telltale sounds of roaring and banging that signified battle.

He listened closer.  No – not battle.  A duel perhaps, or perhaps only training.  But it was a few combatants only, not the mass chaos of a real fight, and eventually his curiosity got the better of him.  “Helblindi!” he called over the wind.  “I hear warriors.”

“We _are_ warriors.”  Thor caught a flash of teeth and decided that the giant had turned to grin at him.  He hoped.  “I did promise to introduce you.”

****************************************

The practice field to which Helblindi led him was one of the more beautiful things Thor had ever seen.  The ground was a great flat sheet of sparkling ice, spared from the snow by high cliffs on either side.  In the light from the moons, the cliffs were very white and the shadows very dark.   Without the biting wind the cold was bearable here, and Thor was able to let his hood down to see more clearly.

Frost-giants were gathered in a circle, cheering and jeering at a pair of fighters in the center.  When the fight was over, the combatants left the ring and a new giant took their place.

“Hugi!  I call you out,” it shouted.  “And I speak the name of my daughter, who you defiled.”

A second giant – Hugi? – stepped forward with a short little bow.   “At her most urgent request,” he murmured, and shifted into a fighting stance.  “Let us fight.”

They fought until one had the other fully at his mercy, knee on his chest and ice-blade to his throat.  “I yield,” the loser rasped, and was released.  The giants clanked ice-blades together afterwards, like a toast, and returned to their places in the circle.  Thor was already feeling the pull of the fight.  These giants were _magnificent_ grapplers.  They could throw each other through the air as if they weighed nothing, slam each other to the ground as heavy as solid stone.

“Aaaaand, Thor is enraptured,” rumbled the g-... rumbled  _Loki_ from beside him.

Helblindi chuckled.  “As I knew he would be.”  The prince stepped into the ring himself, just long enough to introduce Thor and name him guest, and then he and Loki moved off together to talk or do magic tricks or whatever it was people did who couldn’t appreciate the finer things in life.  Of which these giants wrestling was certainly one.

The next pair of fighters were brothers.  (Sisters?).  “I speak the name of our mother’s love, of which you always had more than your share,” one declared.  After that came neighbors who had quarreled over a goat.  One sorcerer who had stolen a spell from another.  The Jotuns recited grudges at the beginning of every match, and though they hardly seemed more kindly disposed towards one another after the fights than before, it seemed an excellent policy to Thor.  At least they knew now what problems were between them.  At least they got to burn off some of their anger in honorable combat.  (At least they wouldn’t hoard up grudges and seethe with poison for decades!).

The giant nearest Thor was one of the ones who had fought over the goat.   Some of the others were laughing at him now, asking him whether he’d stolen the goat to fuck it, calling him names like _Thief of Beards._ He seemed effectively shamed by the attention, so much so that he asked for no one’s help in wrapping his wounds, and instead sat down in the snow to attempt to do it himself.  Without thinking, Thor went down to a knee beside him.  “Shall I help with that?” he asked.

The Jotun whipped around to face him, with a deep growl.  Thor kicked himself for his impulsiveness and reared back, hands spread.  “I meant no harm.  I only-”

“I need no help.”

“Of course, I-”

“-But I would accept if you offered it, Thor-King.”

They looked at each other.  “Oh.  Well, I… offer it.”  Thor hazarded a smile.  “What’s your name?”

“Gymir.”

The giant said nothing else as Thor moved around his back to press a cloth to his bleeding shoulder (carefully, for the skin was too cold to touch).   But in the silence he soon grew uncomfortable, so he began saying whatever came into his head.  “I like this contest.  I rather wish we had it in Asgard.  I would challenge one of my friends in the name of the meat he snatches from my plate when he thinks I’m not looking.  I’d challenge another for having had lecherous thoughts about my mother.  How’s that?  Shall I bind it this way?”

The giant nodded.  He said nothing else – even when Thor was finished.  Not a word of thanks.  Nothing.  That seemed a little odd, but Loki had said the giants did not speak much, so perhaps it was all normal.  He returned to his place on the circle to watch the other fights.

A new giant stepped into the ring…

… And pointed directly at him.  “Thor Odinson!  I call you out.”  The crowd suddenly grew still and silent.  Thor swallowed and hoped very much that Loki was paying attention.  Or at least that Helblindi was.  That _someone_ was here with some gift for diplomacy.  _You are as diplomatic as a bull in mating season,_ Loki had told him, and it was true.  He waited in silent panic for the Jotun to name his crime.

The Jotun showed teeth.  “And I speak the name of your female’s beauty, which robs me of sleep night after night.”

A tide of low laughter rose up from the others, and Thor went dizzy with sudden relief.   They were teasing.

He set his hammer down and stepped into the circle without it.  “I’m sure Sif is heartbroken that she’s not here to break your head for that, my friend.  But I’ll be delighted to act for her in her absence.”  He hesitated.  “I will not be much good for wrestling if my flesh freezes on contact.  Will you be careful?”

The giant came close, towering over him… but having stood his ground before Loki himself, Thor was not intimidated.  He did not flinch in the least as an enormous blue hand approached his face.

“Does this satisfy?” the giant growled, and cupped his cheek.

… And then stroked it.  “Darling?”

Thor hoped he was not expected to take taunting in silence.  “I shall bring stories of your gentle touch back home to Sif, sweet giant.”  He lowered into a good strong crouch.  “But sadly for you, it’s warriors she likes to bed.”

The giants approved, whooping and stomping on the ice.  Even his opponent grinned.

“Let us fight.”

The fight started well.  But it did not last long – the giant pulled some of his more fantastic punches and made sparing use of his ability to spew ice, but still Thor was at a disadvantage on the unfamiliar slippery ground.  He skidded once and lost balance, and before he could recover his opponent was on him.  Heaving him up in the air, slamming him to the ground, yanking on his hair to expose his throat for a blade.

When the fine edge of ice burned his skin he knew a moment of fear.  Just a moment though, before he came together enough to realize that the stinging was from cold only, that the giant had not cut him, _was_ not cutting him, was only waiting patiently.

“I yield,” he said at once.  He let himself be helped to his feet.   (The giants had lines etched in _their_ feet, their rough bony feet… _they_ certainly never slipped on the ice.  His boots had betrayed him.)

“And I’m sorry about your eye,” he added.

It had swollen almost shut.  Which was an accident, really; Thor had crashed his shin into the giant’s face while they wrestled, because he was so much taller than an ordinary opponent that it was hard to keep track of where all his parts should be.  The giant shrugged.  “It only pains me that I will see the Lady Sif less clearly next time she visits,” he purred, hand over his heart.  He laughed when Thor shoved at him.  They had to improvise the ice-toast, as Thor had no ice-blade, but it seemed to suffice, and he retook his place in the circle confident that he had navigated the ritual as well as could be expected.

Feeling excited and sociable he turned to the giant beside him.  “I really do like this contest,” he said.  “Is this always how you train, naming grudges?”

The giant shook his head slowly.  “Not always, Thor-King.   But this day all grievances must be known, and aired, and set aside.  We must forge peace all between us.”

Out of nowhere Thor had a very bad feeling.  “Why?”

The giant smiled at him.  “Because Helblindi-King leads us into war this night.”

************************************

TBC.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, next we see what Loki and Helblindi have been off talking about. Chapter is basically done; I’ll edit it up and get it posted Thursday or Friday.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the second update this week, so if you haven't checked in a while you might have missed a chapter.

Loki was not watching the fights. Instead, he’d drawn Helblindi off to the side, and thrown up a muffling wall of magic to keep the shouting and grunting noises from disturbing their conversation.

_Conversation_ being a polite word for it really; Loki had some questions and he was not leaving until he’d had them answered.

“Last night you said you were there,” he said straight away. “When Odin took me. Were you?”

Helblindi nodded.

“Can you tell me what happened.” For some reason Loki couldn’t steady his voice enough to make a question of it. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Please? All of it.”

Helblindi looked to the stomping hooting crowd of giants… and then lowered his eyes. “I have told no one. Not even Laufey, who was my sire and my king.”

“You haven’t told? Well surely somebody noticed that a _baby_ had gone missing,” Loki snapped, harsher than he meant to. “Or was I as little favored by my first father as by my second?”

“Laufey-King cared very much for you,” he said softly. “When I told him you were taken he gave the finest funeral rites I have ever seen for a child. He wept to his shoulders.”

A silly turn of phrase really, an exaggeration. It referred to the length of the icicle formed by somebody’s tears. Star-crossed lovers were sometimes said to have _wept to their ankles,_ and of course even a Jotun could not make a column of ice that long. Loki cleared his throat. “I’m sure he did.”

“You are wrong to doubt him. I wish you had not killed him; he could tell you himself.”

The bottom dropped out of Loki’s stomach. “ _What_?” He took a step back, felt himself gathering power instinctively. He had to run. He _couldn’t_ run. Thor was here, there, surrounded by a _crowd_ of frost-giants who were going to _kill_ him because-

“Loki-Prince. There is fear on your face.”

_Direct. Be direct; subtlety is lost on them; they’re worse than Thor._ “I’m afraid you’re angry with me. For… for Laufey. Because, yes: I did kill him.”

“I grieved for Laufey.” Helblindi shrugged. “But there is no cause for anger. You were king of Asgard; the Jotun king was your enemy. How did he die?”

_Looking at me with betrayal and surprise._ Or: _pointlessly; I wanted to prove my loyalty, but no one cared._ But he met Helblindi's eyes squarely (people didn't call him the God of Lies for nothing!) and said: “I obliterated him with a single blast of Odin’s spear – it was clean and honorable.”

“There was no insult in his death.” A question.

“No. None.” Loki let out a breath. He'd been living in dread of them finding out, all this time, and they had known already! At least, Helblindi had. “Do the others know? How did you find out? How can you not _loathe_ me? That was your father.”

Helblindi answered the questions dispassionately. “No one knows; it is not my truth to tell. Laufey warned me he might not return; all depended whether you felt more hatred for your Aesir family than for him. I would not loathe you for having slain an enemy.”

Loki was still trying to catch his breath. Panic had made him dizzy and his head had not yet cleared.

Helblindi reached out and put both hands on his shoulders, a brief bracing touch. “But Laufey has had his rites and he is gone. We need speak no more about him. You had questions, before.”

Loki swallowed and tried to remember what they had been talking about. Ah yes – kidnapping. “The day I was taken,” he said. “I want to know what happened. Please tell me. And I’ll… I’ll answer any questions you have in return. Honestly. I’ll tell you anything you want.” A truly insane offer, he realized at once, and yet he hoped Helblindi did take him up on it. What other secrets might his cousin absolve? He had not felt so safe, so light, in _months._ Not since he had come to know what kinds of penalties his secrets could earn.

“I have told no one.”

“Well… please tell me. These are my truths too, cousin.”

Helblindi let out a deep rumble – a sigh? – and capitulated all at once. “I had been given charge of the baby,” he began. “Told to take him somewhere safe. The temple. Away from the battle. I did so.” He took a breath. “I worried – for my my people and my land, but also for my brother. So I asked the priests to perform the rites and summon a seer, to look into the baby’s future. I have no great skill in magic,” he added, “But I have some, and I helped. We lay the runes, we lit the fires, we chanted the songs. The seer began to prophesy.”

He paused, and Loki could hardly breathe with the tension. “And? What did he say? Forget the kidnapping; I want to hear what-”

“Terrible things,” Helblindi interrupted hoarsely. Hoarsely even for a Jotun. “The baby would attract the ire of Odin Allfather. Atrocities would befall the baby; they saw his limbs rent, his flesh burned. _Burned._ ” The word rolled slow and deep through the air. “You must understand,” Helblindi said. “In Jotunheim there is no fire, save ceremonial flames that are small and weak and soon extinguished. Burning is an unthinkable fate, a horror… and they foresaw it for the baby I was supposed to watch over. Some of the visions I saw myself. Glimpses. Screams.”

He seemed genuinely upset, which was uncomfortable, so Loki started talking quickly to get them over the moment. “Yes, well, your seer did an excellent job; as I’ve told you that actually did happen to me, but look: I am fine. Here I stand, whole and well and hardly the worse for wear – unless you count that my mind is full of horrors and I’ll never trust my family again. No no no. Helblindi. I’m joking. Honestly.”

But Helblindi didn't cheer up. He had been carrying these horrors his _entire life,_ Loki realized suddenly. The horrors – and crushing guilt to go with them. And he had _never told,_ until now. Which meant nobody had ever told him: “Look, none of it’s your fault,” he said bluntly. Refusing to get emotional himself. “You know that, don’t you?”

Helblindi didn’t answer.

“You were a child, and, and apparently it’s all been decreed by fate anyway. Hm?” A ridiculous idea. Jotunheim was being torn apart by Asgard, of _course_ the seer would see Odin Allfather tearing the Jotun prince to pieces. But laughing at the idea would not calm Helblindi, and Loki really did want the rest of the story. “Go on,” he urged. “Please. I want to know what happened. The priests were…” _Panicking and hallucinating. “_ …Seeing the future. And then…?”

Helblindi stood motionless for a long moment, but at last went on.  “And then, just as the rites were finishing, there were noises at the doors. The doors burst open. Aesir warriors _and the Allfather himself._ After what we had just heard…”

Loki nodded. “You must have been terrified.” _And you ran away and abandoned me to the slaughter, just as Odin told me._

But Helblindi shook his head. “We went berserk. The priests fought. _Priests._ Untrained for combat, very old and very young, not a single fighter among them save me – a child of seven. But we fought, ferociously, and we slew many.” His voice was still even. “But we were no match for them. When I saw the last priest fall I ran to the altar, but Odin Allfather was already there. _He had the baby_.” Helblindi took a breath. “After the words of the seer I knew what I had to do. I still had my throwing knives.”

“You _attacked_ Odin? As a _child_?” Loki’s first memories of Odin were of a towering _mountain_ of disapproval and he still remembered wetting himself in terror when he broke one of Odin’s vases. Odin hadn’t even _done_ anything to him, had only stood over him glowering while Frigga fussed, but the cold painful pit in his stomach had left a lasting impression.

His mind fit pieces together into an impossible (but impossibly appealing!) story. “He has a Jotun throwing knife,” Loki remembered. “He’s kept it, from the War he says. It’s the knife that put out his eye.”

Helblindi shifted restlessly. “Does it have two chips of red stone in the handle? Marks like this?” He touched one of the swirls on his cheek.

Loki’s jaw dropped. “ _You_ put out Odin’s eye? For _me_?” His voice cracked – he hadn't known Jotun voices could even _do_ that. His stomach felt strangely fluttery, but he ignored that and focused on controlling his voice. “Helblindi, I cannot even tell you how impressed I am. I think you’re the best big brother anybody has ever had. Don’t you dare tell me you’re-”

“You misunderstand.” Helblindi cut him off and looked away.  “A child would have no prayer of slaying the Allfather. This I knew.” He paused and Loki didn’t interrupt. “But I had sworn to protect you, and I would not abandon you to a terrible fate.”

Loki suddenly felt much less warmed. “Ah. So you decided to kill me,” he said briskly, “but you had poor aim. Well, you were seven. I suppose it’s forgivable.”

“I had excellent aim.” Helblindi finally met his eyes. “But the Allfather saw me throw. With his arms full he could cast no magic, but he bent over the baby to shield it with his body instead. My first knife fell on his armor, and my second took his eye.” Loki didn’t know what to say. “It made no matter. He cracked my skull, and took my brother anyway.”

“Odin never was the forgiving type.”

“So have I always believed,” Helblindi agreed. “I awoke with my wounds closed by a foreign magic. I thought the Allfather had healed me as punishment – he had denied me the peace of the snow, forced me to live with my grief and shame.” He shrugged. “But when I learned he had raised you as his own, I began to doubt.”

“It’s… sometimes difficult to tell what Odin means as cruelty or not.” But that sounded too much like he was _defending_ the old bastard, which he was most decidedly _not,_ so he added: “You know… he told me he loved me half a dozen times when he sent me off to…” He gestured vaguely. “To the rending and burning thing.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why he spared you. Perhaps he had a soft spot for Jotun rugrats.”

He had more questions. Many more. But before he could ask they were interrupted by somebody bellowing his name. “Loki! Loki, brother, where are you? _Loki_?”

Loki cleared the charms away from them and waved – it sounded like Thor was panicking, and for Thor to panic…

“What’s the matter, Thor?”

Thor looked at him hard a moment, eyes moving over his forehead, his cheeks. Identifying him. “Loki. We have to-…” But he stopped abruptly when his eyes fell on Helblindi. He hesitated, then went on: “We have to stay together, brother. I didn’t see you, and I… worried.”

Loki winced. He had now upset _both_ his brothers in his selfish quest for answers, and as he had no intention of turning into Odin thank you very much, he nodded and immediately battled his curiosity down under control. For the time being at least.

“He’s right, cousin. I shouldn’t have run off.” Thor still looked uncomfortable, antsy, so Loki smoothly made their excuses. “I think we’ve tested the peace far enough for one day, brother – don’t you? Perhaps we ought to go home.”

Thor nodded, visibly grateful. He squeezed Loki’s hand hard enough to hurt as they said farewell and stepped into the ether.

*********************************************

TBC.

Happy Thanksgiving all.


	12. Chapter 12

So, the frost-giants were going to war.

Loki wasn’t surprised _,_ not really.  Helblindi had impressed on him that Jotunheim was always at war; being at war was just something Jotunheim _was._    The problem was not necessarily as urgent as Thor seemed to think.  “Don’t you remember _anything_ about the sun on Jotunheim, Thor?” he’d snarled.  “ _This night_ can mean anything from a couple of hours to a couple of years.”  Thor had not relaxed – in fact had looked quite suspicious.  “And Helblindi’s not stupid – they’re still rebuilding.  I’m sure they’ll raid a little here and there, yes – we might lose a couple of elvish villages or something, and won’t that be sad, but.”  He shook his head.  “They have nothing to gain by attacking Asgard now – they have no chance.   They’re just… looking forward to it.  What else have they got to do?”

But once Thor had gone away, Loki dropped the act and gave himself free rein to worry a little, and more importantly, to feel _hurt._   Helblindi hadn’t told him.  Hadn’t trusted him.  ( _He hadn’t trusted a patricide-regicide-hospiticide?  What **was** he thinking!_)

Loki hated it, because he had _just_ begun starting to think that maybe it was time to begin feeling a little trust himself – Helblindi didn’t hate him for Laufey.  Maybe he even knew about the Bifrost already, and didn’t hate him for that either.   Helblindi liked him enough to welcome stupid blundering _Thor_ for his sake; what better proof of friendship could there be!

Only now it seemed they weren’t quite as close as he’d thought, because Helblindi had been planning a whole _war_ he hadn’t seen fit to talk about.

Loki hoped, sincerely hoped, that there was some truth to what he’d thrown Thor’s way in annoyance.  He hoped that the frost-giants weren’t planning on attacking soon – not any time soon.  Not until he’d worked out a way of keeping Thor out of the vanguard and Helblindi… as safe as a frost-giant king ever got in war.

Which, if Jotunheim took on Asgard and lost, would not be very safe.   Of course, he could prevent that.  If he wanted to, he could solve the Jotuns’ military problems all by himself.  He toyed with the idea, and called forth the Casket to toy with it, too.   It swirled at his touch, feeling cold and clean and _right…_ but that was a betrayal Thor would never ever forgive.  He slipped the Casket back into the ether and sat down to keep planning, in other directions.

He considered trying to talk everybody out of war, and for a moment got lost in a daydream about everything working out, Helblindi visiting again, openly, bringing a couple of little Jotun kids to tour the palace and get ward spells from their uncle.  He would do much better than a half-baked prophecy, he would give them-

_Focus, Loki._   The voice cut right through his daydreaming and he straightened up.  _Do you even remember the question?_    The resulting second of fierce panic sharpened his mind and he turned his attention – all of it – to thinking up a solution.  Because this _would_ gut him if he got it wrong.  The Casket of Ancient Winters was a powerful tool and Loki was a brilliant strategist, and if he took a side it would cost one of his brothers his life. 

But, nights on Jotunheim could last for years.  He told himself he probably had time to figure something out, and commenced pacing around the palace, shielded from notice so that people wouldn’t disturb him while he brooded.

****************************************

Thor swore his friends to secrecy and told them everything... and, incredibly, nobody demanded Loki’s head.  Rather the opposite:  “The giants are wrong,” Fandral said first, with certainty.  “That's all there is to it, is that they're _wrong._ ”

Sif spoke up as well.  “We know Loki cares for you, Thor – he was absolutely inconsolable when you disappeared.  And we all know he _hates_ being a giant.  So why would he want to be their king?  You must have misunderstood.  What _exactly_ did the Jotun say?”

He heaved a sigh.  The words were burned into him; he could almost repeat the speech verbatim.  “It told me that Helblindi was preparing to lead them into war.  Then it talked of Loki: said that the son of Laufey was finally ready to take his true place, that he's wanted to sit on a throne for so long and now it's his time.  That at last Asgard will have to give him up – give up _what you’ve taken,_ it said, as if Loki is a, a rock that one puts in one’s pocket.  A _Jotun_ rock.”  He shook his head, disgust giving place to wonderment as he added: “And the strangest thing, friends: it seemed to think that _stealing my brother_ would prove no obstacle at all to our friendship.  It clapped me on the shoulder and told me it hoped to meet me one day on the field of battle.  I said: _that will be your last day then, so don't hope too hard,_ and it _laughed._ ”

Sif shook her head.  “Well, we knew frost-giants were strange.”

“Aye.”  Volstagg.  “They must be, as they've called _you_ beautiful, more than once.”

“Please.  My friends, I beg you to be serious,” Thor said.  “We must decide what to do.”

Fandral hissed.  “I don't know what we _can_ do.  Thor, think about this.  Loki is on shaky ground with many, many people.  If you accuse him of treason – if you even suggest it – whether or not he's proven innocent his reputation may never recover.  Not once people find out what he _is_.”

“ _Proven innocent_?”  Thor did not like the sound of that.  “What do you mean?  Are you suggesting that I call him out in public, demand a trial?”

They all jumped in at once.  “ _No_!”  “Thor, no,” “Are you out of your mind?”  “That sounds unwise.”

“Good.  Because Loki would never forgive me for that.  We shall have to investigate this in private.”

And then, horror of horrors, a _laugh._   A loud bitter laugh, _Loki_ ’s laugh, and suddenly Thor could see his breath as the room’s temperature plummeted.

“By all means,” Loki said, shimmering into being beside him.  “Let us investigate.  Perhaps I can help.”

**********************************************

Most of the Idiots at least had the grace to look embarrassed, but Thor stood with his arms crossed.  “So you were spying upon us,” he accused.  “Once again.  Then, you know what we were talking about.  What have you to say for yourself, brother?”

“First, it’s not what you think,” he began, then winced, because he sounded _awful,_ rushed and defensive, and of _course_ Thor wouldn’t believe a single word out of his mouth.

Especially, because: what would those words be?  _I’m sorry, Thor, but the frost-giant currently threatening the realm is actually my brother.  Yes, I’ve been keeping it from you.  Oh and also he once poked out your father’s eye because of me.  Sorry about that._

So Loki stayed silent, trying to figure out what to say…

“Well?  It’s not what I think?  Then what is it?”  Thor pressed.  Not sounding particularly patient.

Loki groped for words… but amazingly, for once in his life, other people took his part.  “Thor!” Sif snapped.

“Don’t take a tone with him until we know he did something,” Volstagg agreed.

Hogun snorted.  “Until.”

Fandral slapped his hand against the wall to quiet everyone down.  “Nobody’s accusing anybody.  All we know is that the Jotuns are going to war, and that they have some strange thoughts about Loki.  That’s it!  For all we know they’re plotting to _kidnap_ him.  We really need to think this through.”

Thor was still glowering.  “I would like to hear explanation from Loki.  Not guesses from the rest of you.”

“ _Thor_.”  Sif again.  Then she sighed.  “Would you please excuse us a moment, my king?”  That took everyone aback, and before they could recover her hand was on Loki’s arm and she was leading him away.

In the hallway, Loki shielded their conversation with a charm and finally found his tongue.  “Are you sure it’s safe to be alone with me?”

“Stop it,” she said firmly.  “This is only going to get worse if people don’t grow up.”  She took a deep breath.  “Thor is jealous.  He’s jealous of your new friends, and when Thor is jealous he gets hurt and angry and he behaves with even less sensitivity than usual.  You know that.”

Loki shrugged.  Having never been the object of Thor’s jealousy before he could not really comment, beyond:  “He accused me of treason.”

“No – he doesn’t realize what he sounds like, and how unfair it is.  Take this from one who knows, Loki: he doesn’t mean it.  He’ll hate himself when he realizes how he’s hurt you.”

“He hasn’t _hurt_ me.”  Petulant and pathetic.  Thor might have believed it but Sif rolled her eyes at him openly.

But at least she moved on without pressing the point.  “Just talk to me, so that I can have your back.  Any idea what’s going on?”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her everything.  All he would say is: “I’ve had my fill of being king of Asgard.  And I have no intention of seeking the Jotun throne – that’s absurd.”

Incredibly, she seemed to _believe_ him.  “So why do they think otherwise?  A stupid guess?  They know that you like Helblindi, and that Asgard has never been kind to you.  They must think that they can offer you everything you want – friends, family, a throne.   I suppose they think you would come willingly.”

It seemed plausible.  He wove a lie quickly.  “Jotuns _are_ notoriously weak in empathy,” he agreed.  “It’s entirely possible my cousin’s been misreading me.”  His mind bubbled with helpful details.  “Thor told you of how Helblindi picked a fight with him, yes?  To force me to choose between them, to see what I would do.  I feel terrible about this but I _did_ side with Helblindi at the time.  That, and… well, they know that the Allfather _did_ things to me, and… of course they’d assume I’m willing to join their cause.”  This was better – much better.   He would deal with accusations of treason.  He would much rather field that suspicion than tell Thor that the title of  _brother_ he so treasured not only did not belong to him, but actually belonged to another.  To a  _Jotun._ He shivered.

“But… you’re _not_ willing to join their cause,” Sif prompted.  “It’s all a misunderstanding.  Right?”

He met her gaze with his most wide-eyed sincerity.  “Right.”

She nodded.  Believing him?  “Let’s go explain to the others.” 

They did.   There were apologies all round for doubting him… but he thought he could still see doubts in their eyes. 

Fandral said brightly: “So, we just need to tell them that Loki’s not interested.”

“How can we make them believe us?" Hogun asked.

_Tell them about the Bifrost_.  Before someone could suggest _that_ , Loki nodded and plastered an overly serious look onto his face.  “Well, it would be best if the Jotuns saw that I was  _actually_ unavailable to join their cause.  Perhaps we should kill me in front of them.”

Volstagg snorted and followed his lead.  “Aye, that could work.”

But Thor barked, “Enough joking, brother!  Volstagg, you as well.”

Volstagg would not be silenced.  “Well, what are you going to do, Thor?  Lock him away – _again_?  The answer is simple: we tell them Loki is ours, and either they believe it or they don’t.  If they do: wonderful!  And if they don’t, I’m happy to go to war and lop off a couple of ugly blue heads to make our point.  That’s the answer.”  He made a face.  “No offense meant, Loki.”

“None taken,” Loki said without really listening.  He was too busy staring at Thor, who had started looking disturbingly thoughtful when Volstagg fired off the _lock him away_ thing… and continued looking more thoughtful, and more troubled, as time went on.

Loki could _see_ the moment the idea formed up.  “ _No,_ Thor,” he snapped with authority.

Sif looked from one to the other.  “No what?” she said.

“Don’t even think it.  I’ll kill you first, brother.  Or myself.”  The words were out before he could stop himself, and then he winced.   Perhaps not the wisest thing to say, for a man currently under suspicion of treason.  He tried to calm down.

Suddenly there was an arm around his shoulder – Fandral.  “Come on, now: everybody take a breath.  What’s this about killing, hm?  Loki?”

Loki threw back his head and laughed, because _fuck_ if he shouldn’t have seen this coming.  “Thor wants to send me back to the dungeons,” he explained.  “Apparently he didn’t get enough the first time around.  Though I don’t know what more he could-”

“Loki!”  Thor sounded miserable.  “I was thinking they could hide you there.  Keep you out of the Jotuns’ reach, that is all.  In comfort and safety.  I- I only…”  He drew himself up and spoke with more authority.  “There is nothing wrong with proposing an idea, brother.  I would never order you anywhere against your will.  And I would _never_ … that goes without saying, I sincerely hope.”

Loki tuned him out as he mouthed his protests.  Nothing wrong with proposing-?  Oh, of course not.

“But, consider it,” Thor continued.  “Please.  It would keep you… safe.”  He was inventing – desperately.  And he was the worst liar Loki had ever seen.What was he really thinking – did he doubt his brother’s loyalty after all?  Better to lock him away than give him a chance to betray the realm again, was that it?

Loki didn’t want to ask.  And he didn’t want to tell about Helblindi, either.  And really, before long the Idiots might press one of them into saying something that couldn’t be unsaid, or Thor might lose patience and put his foot down with something unforgiveable, and the surest way to avoid any of that was:

“Fine,” he said quickly, almost in a panic.  “No one touches me, no one touches my magic, I approve every paper before you sign it, and then fine, until someone sorts out what’s going on with the frost-giants I’ll go stay out of the way.”

***********************************************

Loki was allowed to pack a bag this time – although he was assured that it was not necessary; clothes could be provided and the facility had its own library.  (He wondered briefly about what sorts of things they might read there, and decided it was probably best to bring his own entertainment.)

The Drones who escorted him to the portal he had never met, but when he arrived, Drone Three was in the waiting area.

“Morning, Loki,” he said easily.  “I know you’ve seen the papers, but just to be clear: nothing’s going to happen to you.  This is not nearly the first time we've held people for safekeeping during political problems, it’s completely normal and everything’s going to be fine.  All right?”

Loki nodded.

“You won’t be harmed.  However, you aren’t allowed to leave or send communications without your king’s permission.”  The Drone shrugged.  “On the upside, that means that any trouble in Asgard while you’re away, cannot be blamed on you.”

He wondered who was going to be blamed in his absence, for every stupid little thing that went wrong in the palace. 

“Also,” Three went on, “You can’t be kidnapped or liberated by force; there are enough secrets in our vaults that no kingdom would dare cross us, and if one did we are more than prepared to fight.  So, you are hopelessly stuck here.  And you’ll have trouble with your sorcery; our space is heavily warded and a lot of magic will fail, or misfire.   We prefer you not to use it.  If you _must_ use it, be careful and give us plenty of warning.  Do you understand?”

He nodded.

“Then, come.  I’ll show you your room.”  The Drones left space while they walked, not crowding in on him to usher him along, but still.  This place set him on edge, and he wasn’t much in the mood to make small talk, and at last Drone Three said into the silence: “So, no helmet this time?”

“I imagine I've left it the same place you've left your courtesy,” Loki shot back.

The Drone immediately straightened up.  “I assure you I did not mean to offend.  You often joke when you're nervous; I was under the impression it puts you at ease.”

Loki blinked.  Did it?  “I also snap when I'm under stress,” he said at last.  “Forgive me.”  He was quiet for a bit, wondering he _did_ joke to calm his nerves and wondering how the Drones knew that before he did.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, Prince.”

The cool, distant formality was worse – far worse.  “Please, _Loki_ is fine.”

“Of course he is, Prince.”  The teasing was back at once, and Loki found it a little disconcerting that the creature was apparently able to switch from friendly to professional and back again at will.  Did that mean that at any moment the Drones might-

“This way.”  The Drone veered off into a side corridor, and opened a door by some mechanism Loki didn’t see.  “Please.”  He gestured Loki in, and when Loki went there was _that hand_ brushing his back, guiding him, and he shuddered.  The Drone pulled away at once.  “Ah, sorry.” 

The absurdity of a Drone apologizing to him for such a thing boggled the mind.

***************************************

Loki’s room this time was slightly larger than the room he remembered, with nicer furniture, but its sink and toilet were still right out in the open.   When the Drones took up positions inside with him – the new one standing by the door, and Drone Three sitting in one of his chairs to read – he grew testy.  “Please tell me you’re not going to just _stand_ there the entire time I’m here?” he snapped in Door Drone’s direction.

“If you object to him just standing there,” Drone Three put in, “He could do something else.”  And he looked up from his book with a bland smile.

Loki glared at him.  (Or, tried to.  It was hard to glare effectively with a chill running down his spine.)

“I’m joking, Loki.”  Really?  There was a bit of an edge, now.  “But just because it isn’t _dangerous_ for you to be rude to us, does not mean it isn’t still _rude_.”

A fair point.  (( _And they had always been polite to him, even while--_ )).  “My apologies,” he said, shutting his mind to thoughts of the Drones’ civility.  “Only, at some point I’ll want privacy.”  He gestured to the toilet.

Door Drone passed hands over the wall in a pattern, and though Loki felt no magic in the room the floor began to glow and a wall shimmered into being.  “Will that suffice, Prince Loki?”

The bathroom at least was walled off now, so Loki nodded and rummaged through his bag to find a book.  But after another few hours of silence the presence of the Drones got annoying and he asked (politely, this time!) whether they would leave entirely.

They did, but then in the silence and solitude he began to have strange thoughts like what if he had only _imagined_ that everything was fine and what if he was _really_ here because-…

He had to bang on the door and call them back.  Hating himself thoroughly for his weakness.  Or his madness.  Or both.

**************************************

TBC.

Sorry, sorry, a thousand apologies for the delay.  Work has been brutal and I took a break to write that Clint/Loki whip thing, but now I’m back!  Next chapter’s half-written already, so expect it in a couple of days.  What’s going to happen is, Loki will geniusly realize that he can’t hide from the having-a-frost-giant-brother thing forever.


	13. Chapter 13

When the Drones returned they took up their same stations: Door Drone stood by the door, Drone Three sitting at the table. Earlier Loki had been sitting on the bed, but in his short stint alone he had become too restless to read and had flung his book aside. Now he was pacing.

Drone Three looked up from his reading at last. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Leave his safe place? Not likely. He shook his head, and stopped pacing. He glanced at the empty chair.

“Go ahead,” Drone Three said, gesturing. “It's your room.”

So Loki sat down opposite at the table, stealing glances at the Drone's upside-down book, wondering what it was. But he could make no sense of it at all. “What language is that?” he said at last.

“Ours.” The Drone grinned. “It can't be rendered into the Alltongue. If I spoke in it or even said the name, you'd only hear gibberish.”

“Oh.”

A moment later: “Did you want something else?”

“Hm?” He had been staring. “Oh-... no, thanks. Sorry.”

The Drone went back to his reading. Relaxed. At ease.

…Approachable. It occurred to Loki that he might as well take advantage of the situation where he could. “Excuse me,” he said, steeling his heart not to pound when they made eye contact. “Could I ask a favor?”

Three put the book down. “Of course.”

He had considered several possible wordings, but there was none that did not sound pathetic, so at last he just spilled it all out at once. “Since I left here I've been having some difficulties with nightmares and panics, and I've sometimes been able to control it by remembering your telling me to _focus,_ or _control yourself_ , or the like. So: might I ask you to say a few more calming things for me? In the hopes that I can remember them later, when I need them.”

“Ah.” Three was quiet a moment. Then he nodded slowly... and then popped to his feet. “Certainly – come with me, I'll take you somewhere else. You don't want me barking orders at you in your safe room.”

Reasonable enough. And it would get rid of Door Drone, who was starting to make Loki nervous by staring straight ahead in silence all afternoon. So Loki went with him, followed him down the hall. He tried not to feel like the corridor was pressing in on him, tried not to remember the sound of bare feet slapping on these floors. It helped to look down and see clean tiled floors, no bloody footprints, himself in boots.

“How about in here.” Three pushed a door open and gestured Loki in. The room was pitch-black, and Loki's heart beat a little harder as the door closed behind them.

“Where's the-”

_CLICK._

The sound of the door locking was deafening in the darkness, and he choked on the rest of his sentence. - _lights?_

“The lights?” Drone Three guessed coolly. “Ah... here they are.”

A soft click of a switch, and then, the lights flickered to life and Loki blinked and looked around and-

A wall of whips and pincers. Wooden frames with metal shackles. A single chair, bolted to the floor.

“ _No-_ ” he choked out, but his throat was closing and the word was totally inaudible. He backed up, into the wall, into the door that was _locked_ , and his chest was heaving but he couldn't breathe.

“Loki?”

He tore his eyes from all the equipment and looked desperately to the Drone – just barely hanging on, not quite together enough to manage speech. _The sight is too much,_ he wanted to say, and _I’m falling apart,_ and _Can we go somewhere else_ and _Help._

“Mm-hm, good.” It was crisp and businesslike. “Here we are. Now: take off everything you're wearing, and cross your wrists behind your back.”

_Cross your wrists. Cross your wrists cross your wrists cross your wrists. Take off everything you're wearing, and cross your wrists behind your back. Cross your-_

He pressed harder into the wall behind him. His hands were scrabbling against it, looking for something to hold on to, anything, but the wall was smooth and his throat was closed and he couldn't move or speak but only

_Cross your wrists, cross your wrists cross your wrists. Strip naked. Loki. Loki. Loki-_.

“-Loki!” A sharp jarring pain got his attention and suddenly the Drone's face was right in front of his. “Focus. You aren't going to be hurt. Not touched at all. Come out into the hallway. That's right – this way.”

The door opened, the fresh air helped but still Loki was falling against the wall.

“Here: chair. Sit down. You're safe. _Nothing_ is going to happen to you.”

Loki sat – almost fell.

“Elbows on your knees, hands on your head, there.”

Someone was manhandling him into position; he let it happen.

“Now listen to me, and do as I tell you.” Cool and commanding. “I scared you on purpose and you can get angry later, but first, you're going to practice calming down now. Pay attention: first you need to breathe. Are you breathing?”

He was – but shallowly. He shook his head and tried to fix it, filling up his lungs hard.

But after a moment the Drone said: “No.” His terror spiked – again. “You're not breathing out all the way. _All the way out,_ Loki.” He did as he was told, desperately. “Now suck in, and hold it. Good, now out. In... out. Forget everything else for now. Focus: in. Out. Like that, all the way. Keep going.”

_In... out._ He could hear it. He nodded.

After a bit the Drone explained: “When you fall apart, that can help you come back. Are you breathing,now?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, and _talking!_ Aren't you ahead of the curve.” Loki could hear a smirk. “Good. Next, know what's going on – what's really happening around you. Tell me where you are.” After a moment he repeated it, sharper. “ _Where_ , Loki?”

Loki pulled his scattered wits together. He'd been ushered out, put in a chair in... “Hallway.” It was a hiss of air, almost a gasp... but still.

“Good. And are you safe right now?”

“Don't know.”

“Yes you do – what did I tell you?”

“Don't know.”

“That's a lie, Loki.”

His throat closed.

“Ooh, didn't like that,” the Drone chuckled, and Loki was distracted a moment with a stab of hate. “Don't worry, you're safe. Are you breathing?”

He had stopped. He managed to start again: _In... out._

“Well done. Focus on that a minute, take your time. Nod when you're lucid. I'll wait.”

_In... out._ Was he lucid? He was lucid. He knew he was sitting in the hallway falling apart, at least. He nodded.

“Now: I told you, you're safe. Say it.”

“'m safe.” It sounded strangled and horrible.

“So put your head back together: what's your mother's name?”

“My- Frigga,” he said, mind tripping over itself. “Well but she's who I _thought_ was my mother, I don't-”

“Right. Do you like raisins?”

“Ah- yes, in pastries at least, I don't often eat them by-”

“Fine. Do you have pets, now?”

“Pets- now?” he repeated. “No, I had a- a bird once when I was-...” _Not an answer,_ he realized, and finished in a rush with his heart in his throat: “But I, I don't have any pets now. No. None, no pets.”

“You don't need to babble, Loki,” the Drone drawled. “Just answer. What's the name of Thor's hammer?”

“Mjolnir.” He said it at once, and didn't say anything else.

“Perfect. Can you sit up and look at me?”

Loki realized for the first time that he was still sitting braced on his knees and staring down at his boots. He jerked up, surprised.

The Drone was standing a ways in front of him, and squatted down to put himself at eye level.

“How do you feel now?”

“Fucking sick.” But fully himself again, at least.

“That will pass.” The Drone's look was flat and appraising, and Loki was suddenly aware that he was bathed in sweat and his hair was sticking out every which way because he'd been grabbing at it. He sat up straighter and started to put himself to rights, beginning to hate that he was being watched.

“Did you hear what you needed?”

_Suck in, and hold it._ _Now out._ He let out a deep breath and nodded. Hated the watching even more. “Though being terrorized into incoherency first was an unexpected bonus,” he snarled. “Thank you so much.”

Three just shrugged. “Falling apart sometimes is nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “It’s expected, really, given the severity and nature of your sessions.”

He'd forgotten: the Drones were not Thor. Thor would have met anger with anger when snarled at, and they could have had a nice loud argument instead of ever discussing his embarrassing overreaction. “Nature?” he said, to change the subject.

“It's one thing to pressure someone for information he’s deliberately withholding,” the Drone explained. “But you were cracked open – wide open – so that people could poke at your insides. That is different.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for the visual.” Especially horrible because it was _true._

“Not to mention, of course, that it was your own father who sent you here.”

Loki tossed his head. “Perhaps a minor complication,” he agreed. He _had_ to tease, otherwise he might cry. Self-pity was engulfing him out of nowhere: he _did_ have it hard. When members of the _dungeon staff_ start expressing sympathy...

“Indeed. So please believe me when I tell you that your condition is not at all shocking. Now: can you answer one more question?”

_No._ But of course he couldn’t _say_ that. “Of course.”

“What did I say to you in there to panic you? Repeat it.”

Loki shook his head, hard.

The Drone heaved a huge sigh. “Am I going to have to patronize you, Loki?”

That actually made him _laugh._ He _was_ being silly – superstitious and ridiculous. These weren’t the words of a magic spell; they should have no power to instantly render him terrified. He swallowed. “You told me to take off everything I’m wearing and to- and to cross my wrists.” He tripped just once. Not bad.

“That’s right. Stand up.” Loki did it, warily because he knew what was coming. Three kicked the chair away and he flinched at the sudden banging scrape over the floor. “Here it is again; listen.”

_No._ But he nodded.

The Drone said it again, polite and professional. And then other things, things he remembered. Ordered him to sit and stand and pay attention. Reminded him it was policy to go naked to the dungeon, to be _prepared,_ to be _interrogated_. Asked a few questions, pressed him to _think_ , accused him of lies.

More than once he needed to stop and regroup himself – but he managed not to plead for encouragement, or teasing, or _anything_ other than: “Moment.” And then the Drone would stop, and wait in silence while he told himself _In... Out..._ until he felt less dizzy.

Eventually the Drone retrieved the chair. “Have a seat, please.”

He sat, and it made his heart hammer, looking up at the Drone, or staring straight ahead at its buttons. But he could do it. In fact, he could do _more_. “One moment,” he said, and in the silence took a long deep breath and then folded his arms behind the chair.

Ah... Perhaps he had overreached. Because now suddenly he was suffocating, and frozen, in a wide-open and vulnerable position he absolutely _could not-_

“Open your eyes, Loki,” Drone Three said firmly, and then _raised his hand._

Loki flinched hard, closing his eyes again, hiding his face in his shoulder.

“Loki.” And then _touching_ him, fingers under his chin, turning him to face front.

He _remembered_ that, remembered it hard, and grit his teeth. As long as he could _see_ it wouldn't be too bad...

But the Drone withdrew a step and did not touch him again. “Remember to breathe. Full name?”

“Loki Odinson.” The words came from nowhere.

“Color of the walls around you?”

He checked, just to be sure. “White.”

“And where are you now?”

“In the hallway.” They had been over _that_ just a few minutes ago.

“All right. Who typically falls asleep sooner at night – you or Thor?”

“Thor – always. I hear him snoring.”

“Are you breathing?”

Loki nodded – he was, this time.

“Then, enough.” He waved his hand carelessly. “Let go. At ease, sit how you like. We are finished.”

Loki clutched at his elbows tighter and didn't move.

“Truly, _honestly_ finished,” he insisted. “Promise. I won't say another word.”

Loki swallowed and tried to summon the spirit to sass. “Looming silently is... hardly more reassuring... than actually reassuring me.”

Drone Three laughed outright. “And, _there_ is the Loki we know and love. Good to see you.” He looked a little more carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Loki stood, and rubbed his hands to get rid of the annoying tingling. “Still unsteady.” He shook his head. “I'll never be back to normal, will I.” Was he ever _normal_? “To... how I was.”

“You'll never _not_ have suffered, no.” _Thank you so much for pulling your punches,_ he thought, and maybe the force of his sarcasm made the thought carry, because the Drone added: “But it's to be hoped that all this will become rarer, and milder, and easier to recover from. You're on the right track – the last time you came here, you fell apart when I said hello.”

A bizarre thing to take comfort from, but Loki did his best.

* * *

Back in the room, they had an hour of silence before Drone Three set down his book. “Loki, why are you here? Out of curiosity,” he added, quickly. “You don't have to answer if you don't want.”

Loki shrugged. “Ask Thor.”

“Unhelpful. We _know_ why Thor asked you to come. But why did you agree?”

He shrugged again.

“That's interesting.”

“What?”

The Drone's turn to shrug. “We've _heard_ the reason you gave your brother; that's not a secret. Yet now you are being secretive. So, that means there is another reason, and you're hiding it. What is it?”

Loki shook his head.

“Fine – I'll guess.”

“I will not confirm or deny a single thing.” He was proud of his answer, sharp and immediate. Even though his voice was shaking.

“You won't need to, Loki. I'll know.” Drone Three folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I'll start with the most outlandish theory: your reason is political; you really _are_ working against Thor, and coming here is part of some elaborate preconceived plan between you and your allies.”

“That's ridiculous. Do you really think-”

“Please.” The Drone held up a hand for silence, looking overly grave. “As I said, your input is not required.”

“So now you're going to interrogate me without actually allowing me to answer questions.” Loki sat back in his chair. “That should be entertaining. Is it generally a successful strategy for you?”

“You tell me. I'll skip to the most likely explanation, which is that Thor unknowingly cornered you where you couldn't refuse to come without revealing a secret you didn't want to reveal. I find that frankly _fascinating_ – you were one of the most cooperative subjects I've ever worked with; there was almost _no_ information you would struggle to hold back, no matter how unflattering, or embarrassing, or dangerous. So what secret are you now so desperate to protect?”

“I'm not-...” Loki made a face and gave up. “It's not a _secret;_ Thor is going to find out anyway,” he said at last. And then he glared. He had been _avoiding_ that thought scrupulously; avoiding the realization that coming here was only a temporary solution. The look on Thor's face – that miserable, betrayed look – was coming eventually.

Or maybe not.

His skin prickled and a sudden wave of horror choked him as he realized that _Thor might not come._ Perhaps the discovery of the monster family Loki had hidden would be too much to tolerate, and all his promises about safety and rescue would fall to the wayside because who keeps promises to a traitor monster anyway.

“Loki?” The Drone prompted. “Breathing?”

“I'm fine,” he choked out.

“You're not; you're on the verge of breaking down again,” he said coolly. “What's the problem?”

“The problem is-... Moment.” Loki took a deep breath and then another. “Thor is going to find out,” he said at last, when he felt able to talk. “And I'm concerned that when he does he'll disown me or-, or worse.” He had to know: “Now that I'm here... how easy would it be for him to...?”

“To...? Ah.” The Drone shrugged. “If your king wanted to make modification to your papers, he would come and inform us. Don't worry; we would have a careful conversation with him and he would not... make rash decisions.” That was reassuring; Thor was really only dangerous when he acted rashly. But still.

The Drone cocked his head. “Do you really think there's a chance your brother would do you harm? What exactly is this soon-to-be former secret?”

Soon-to-be former indeed. Why delay? “I'm the brother of the frost-giant king,” Loki said shortly, “And I've passed from neglecting to tell Thor about it, to outright lying. Thor calls my brother _it;_ he won't like learning about the kinship. He'll like even less that I kept it from him. Heavens know what conclusions he'll draw from _that._ ”

“I see.”  And then nothing more.

“Well?” Loki snapped. “Do you have anything helpful to say? Or how about _you_?” He turned to Door Drone, who was still just standing silent.

“The kinship is not your fault,” Door Drone said in a tone of complete boredom. “The lying is, but King Thor will not likely punish you for that; he has known you for a liar his entire life.”

Drone Three hissed with annoyance. “Thor isn't going to _punish_ anyone. _Think_ , Loki. Calm down and think.”

Loki thought. If the Drones... did what Drones do... and demanded to know _do you think Thor is going to punish you_... he would have to say no. So... _what are you really afraid of?_

“I'm afraid that I've done serious damage to our relationship,” he spat out, not realizing until afterwards that he had been answering a question no one else could hear. “I came here because I was dodging the consequences.”

“Mm.” Drone Three didn't sound surprised. “Is this the first serious betrayal between you?”

Loki shook his head.

“What generally happens afterwards?”

“Generally I do damage control afterwards,” he snapped, “But I can't do that from here.” He glared. Now it was all out in the open and he hated, _hated_ Drone Three more than ever. He couldn't pretend not to know: “I need to talk to him before he hears it from anybody else. That's the only chance I'll get for him to listen with an open mind.” He stood up. “I need to leave.”

"Impossible."  Door Drone shifted to stand more squarely in front of the door.

_Can't leave,_ Loki remembered, _and can't send messages_. But he needed to get Asgard's attention _now._

Ah. The answer came to him after just a moment of thought. “Asgard compensates you in some way for your services,” Loki guessed. “Yes?”

Door Drone nodded at him.

“And I imagine the compensation depends on how many prisoners you take on, what you do with them, how much of your equipment they wear down, that sort of thing. Yes?”

Door Drone nodded again. “More or less.”

Loki grinned at both Drones in turn. “In that case, I would like to deface your floor. Have some paint brought for me, if you would. And just add the damage to Odin's bill.”

The Drones exchanged glances, and shrugged, and within a few minutes Door Drone had brought him a pot of paint and a paintbrush.

_**HEIMDALL:**_ Loki painted in big bold letters the size of his hand. _**THOR MISUNDERSTOOD; “SON OF LAUFEY” MEANT PRINCE HELBLINDI, NOT ME.**_ _ **I CAN PROVE IT.**_

Could he? He thought hard. _**THOR AND HIS FRIENDS HAVE ALL HEARD HELBLINDI CALL ME “CHILD,”**_ he remembered at last. _ **THAT IS WHAT A JOTUN CALLS HIS YOUNGER SIBLING.**_ Surely someone, somewhere in Asgard could confirm that fact? The library surely must contain _one_ old volume about Jotun culture? Or surely _one_ person had had cause to meet an enemy family during the War?

Well, he had to hope. Since he’d been so careful to keep the relation a secret, this was all he had. _**THE KING CAN RESCIND A CONTRACT AT ANY TIME,**_ he reminded in conclusion. _**SEND HIM NOW TO GET ME OUT.**_

Loki regarded his work, satisfied. Heimdall would check in on him before too long, would see the message, would pass it to Thor. It would take some time to verify his words; at the very least Thor would have to speak to a librarian, get help poring over scrolls in languages he was too slow to read, but… Surely it would not be too hard to convince him. Helblindi had _said_ in Thor's hearing that all he needed to ascend the throne was to lead the people to war.

There. So, release was now only a matter of a little time and patience. Loki apologized insincerely for all the mess, and sat down to wait.

* * *

TBC.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for taking so long! The holidays are crazy.
> 
> On the upside, I just suffered through an office party and it inspired a brief one-shot involving Loki and Drone Three a few years after this story ends. I'm going to post it today, as a happyholidays/sorryimwritingsoslow present. It will be a separate story, and I’ll call it Auld Lang Syne.

 

* * *

Loki decided on a shower; he now stank of fear-sweat and the Drones had warned him against trying to clean up by magic.  He went behind the new wall Door Drone had built him and turned the water on.

“Would you prefer us to leave?” Three called.

“ _No_.”  The last time they left he had been terrified.  Though of course he wouldn't admit that.  In fact, he decided he had better say something else before it became apparent; he _had_ sounded a little panicked just now.  “Stay if you like,” he called back as he undressed.  “It would be a little silly to worry about modesty in front of you people at this point, wouldn't it.”

He refused to consider the absurdity of yelling this over a barrier he had demanded for modesty's sake.

“Toss your clothes out; I'll have them washed.  It's quick.”

He did, and when a buzzing noise started up he peeked around to discover that Door Drone was operating a sort of nozzle from the wall that seemed to be jetting the leather with something invisible.

“What is that?” he said a few minutes later, back in the water.  As long as someone was talking, he knew he hadn't been left in this place by himself.

But there was no answer.

“Hello?”  He stuck his head out at once, heart in his throat... but he wasn't alone.  Door Drone was still working on his pants.  “Where's-... your friend?”

“He was called away.  A message.  He will return.”

“Oh.”  Loki went back to his shower.  Eventually the sound of Door Drone's washer ceased, and he heroically resisted the urge to look around the wall to make sure he hadn't gone anywhere.

...At least, he resisted the urge until he heard the hiss of the room doors opening.  Then he gasped and practically threw himself into the room, flinging water everywhere.

But Door Drone wasn't abandoning him; instead, the door had opened because Drone Three had returned.  “King's here,” he said casually.  “They tell me he's in the waiting room.”  His eyes flickered up.  “You still have suds in your hair.”

“Mm.”  Loki went back to rinsing.  An arrival this fast meant that Thor hadn't even taken the time to verify his words; he had _believed_ him, at once, and immediately rushed to undo the terrible injustice he had perpetrated.  Which meant he _knew_ he was wrong.  Which meant he _was_ wrong (Loki hadn't been entirely sure), and it _was_ awful to have ordered him here, and Thor would be apologizing long into next century.  “The king can wait,” he called, nose in the air. 

“Well, in the event Your Highness at some point sees fit to emerge, here is a towel.”  One was tossed atop the barrier and Loki grinned up at it.

“Thanks.”

When he came out he put on his newly cleaned and pressed clothes, tossed his things back into his bag and looked around.  Feeling, for a second, oddly reluctant.  “Well.  I suppose it's time?”

“Yes.  We'll take you upstairs.”

The walk upstairs was a positive pleasure: he led the way, head high, through hallways which no longer seemed half so intimidating.  No one was going to lay a hand on him – and if they did, he would take it with calm and dignity and he would be fine.  More, he was a Prince of Asgard, trusted and beloved, who had the king's ear and was in such high demand that rulers would fight over him and entire realms would go to war.  He let his boot heels clack against the floor with authority.  He would walk where he pleased.

Drone Three passed a hand over the final door and it hissed open.  Loki brushed past him, not caring – even the stupid hiss of the doors didn't bother him any more.

His confidence lasted until he looked around the room and discovered that the king who had come for him was not Thor, but Odin.

* * *

“Father.”  It was out before Loki could stop himself.  He winced.  Stood straight, searched for a sarcastic half-smile.  “You’re looking… rested.”

“There’s no time for play, Loki.”  Odin did not, in fact, look rested.  He had slept for months and yet was tense, almost harried.  “Come with me – we’re going home.”

Loki edged away until he felt the Drones at his back.  “What’s the matter?” he said.  Not thinking.  Not _allowing_ anything to be the matter.

“What do you think?” Odin said shortly.  “Thor is a fool.”

“Oh, is he?” Loki sniffed.  “That's news to me.  What did he do?”

Odin stopped beckoning impatiently just long enough to explain: “He's in Jotunheim.”  His gaze was hard.  “The Jotuns sent someone into Asgard to _fetch_ him.  How did they manage _that_ , I wonder?”

There was no _wondering_ about it; the eye burned and Loki did his best not to squirm under it.  It would be better to just take responsibility now, before Odin got any angrier.  “Me,” he said firmly.  “I visited Jotunheim a number of times over the past few months.  _With_ Thor's approval – even one time with Thor.” He shrugged.  “I must have worn a path; I'm sorry.  It would be small, though – I haven't opened the realm to enemy armies or whatever you're thinking.”  Odin didn't soften, so he went on.  “Look, if a frost-giant comes and starts sneaking around the castle without being spotted, well, that means some guards are not doing their jobs.  Not to mention our Guardian, who is supposed to be on the lookout for that sort of thing.”

Odin was silent a moment.  At last he admitted: “There was no _sneaking_.  The giant stepped into the hall openly, made your brother a bow, and asked him to come to Jotunheim for a discussion with the king.    When he gave a promise of safety, Thor agreed.”

Loki swallowed.  “Helblindi will- Their king will honor that promise.”

“Oh?”  Odin snorted.  “What makes you think that?  Is it because you _like_ him?”  Loki had no answer.  “Then, this is a lesson you need to learn the sooner the better:” He drew himself up.  “That you like someone – love him, even – is no guarantee that he will deal honorably with you.  For instance.”  He made a sweeping gesture in Loki's direction.

Loki felt a shift behind him and remembered that they were not alone.  A Drone had... what?  Crossed his arms, perhaps?  He realized that although he was hemmed in by the creatures he did not feel intimidated; rather, just now the escort felt almost protective.  In their midst he felt able to push a little further.

“Thank you for that, Father.”  He set his bag down on the floor.  “You're making it seem so unbearably attractive to come home.”  Odin was glaring but that only incited him more.  “In fact, I'm beginning to feel I don't _deserve_ the honor.  Perhaps I'll just stay here until Thor comes for me after all.”

“Attractive or not, honor or not, Thor or not: you will do as I tell you.  We are leaving, Loki.  _Now_.”  

After what Drone Three had done to him earlier, Loki couldn't quite muster up a feeling of terror over just a few sharp looks.  Instead he stalled a little longer, just to rile.  “You woke _up_ for this?  Did you really think Thor can't handle it?  Though I suppose it make sense after all; without me there's nobody to ensure his head is on straight and of course we wouldn't want to let him get hurt or make any mistakes.  So of course you woke up to watch over him.  Who could blame-”

“Loki!”  Odin barked.  “Heimdall woke me at _your_ request!”

Loki blinked.  “What?”

“You wanted to be fetched away.  You wanted the king!”  Now it was almost a bellow.  “Well, the king has come to fetch you.  And so help me you’ll come along without _one more word_ of opposition.  _Is that clear, boy_?”

Loki hadn’t been yelled at this way in years.  Frigga had tried to explain it once, petting his hair, pretending not to notice as he wiped tears on her shoulder.  _Your father only shouted like that because he was frightened, Loki.  You two could have been hurt, and he couldn’t bear that – you’re too important to him._

He had since come to understand that she was right: behaving like an enraged bear was the way Odin showed he _cared._ But why was he doing it now – what could have frightened him?  There was nothing to be frightened about.  Everything was going to be fine.  Thor had said so.

Loki looked around uncertainly, half-hoping that the Drones would politely show Odin the door; he wasn’t a signatory on this contract anyway…

But Drone Three murmured from beside him: “Better go, Loki.”

“Thank you, but I know how to handle my own father,” Loki hissed back, without taking his eyes from Odin’s face.  He wanted, suddenly, to ask about the eyepatch.  Was it true that a little Jotun boy…? 

But now was not the time.  “Fine,” he spat.  “Fine, I’ll come.  But I don’t see what the problem is – the Jotuns _like_ Thor.  This is one peace he'll be able to negotiate without-”

“ _I_ will negotiate a peace, by giving them what they really want.”  Odin gestured impatiently.  “ _Come_.”

_What they really want?_    Loki swallowed and stepped away again, bumping into a Drone with his shoulder.  He tried for a bitter smile, but his lips only twitched briefly.  “Do they want me as a prince or as a war criminal?”

“What?”

“I think it’s only fair to tell me what you’re delivering me to.   A long miserable life holding court in a frozen wasteland, or a quick execution that I more than deserve?  I think I’d prefer the latter, honestly.  At least it would be-”

“ _Silence!_ ”  And, roaring again.  “Would you put aside your stupid, petty, _childish_ hurts and _think_!  For one moment.”  He shook his head, disgusted.  “If I meant to trade your life for peace I would have done it the instant you used our Bifrost.”  His voice softened – he was probably just tired.  “I grow weary of explaining this to you, Loki: you are my son, and beloved as such.  You are not a bargaining chip.”

Loki surveyed his feelings and found nothing but plain suspicion.  “I don’t understand,” he said at last.  “You’re not going to hand me over?”

“I am not,” Odin said shortly, and beckoned with authority.  Confusion – and a tug of magic, which he heavily resented – weakened his resolve to be difficult, and Loki allowed himself to be led through the portal.

Safe in Asgard, in private, Odin finished his thought.  “I will not hand you over,” he said.  “I am going to give them the Casket of Ancient Winters instead.”

Loki blinked.  “You want me to… give them the Casket?  The thing that will power their armies to victory?”

“The thing that _would_ power their armies to victory,” Odin said, with a sly little smile.  “If you and I did not enchant it first.”

* * *

Loki had read all about these binding spells but never actually tried them.  It took far longer than it should have, and still he did not get it right, until eventually Odin sat beside him and guided his hands through the motions.  He allowed it, but as soon as he could he shook free.  “I see, I see.  Let me try it myself.”

The next attempt was closer; it was actually a binding... but it was too weak.  It tore like paper.  Then, he corrected for that, but corrected too far so that he ended up with a visceral physically sticky mess that clung to Odin's fingers and glued them to the table.  He lifted the spell with a great deal of irritation at himself.  “Ah-.  Sorry.” 

Odin chuckled.  “I have missed you as a student, Loki.  Your talent has always-”

“No.”

Odin blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I have no objection to civility but let's not pretend to any more than that.”  Loki wanted to sound matter-of-fact but he could _hear_ the bitterness in his own voice.  “With all due respect...”  _It makes me ill to be this close to you._   But he couldn't get out the words.  All he could do was shake his head and say again: “No.”

Odin sat back.  “As you wish,” he said stiffly.  _Offended._   Wasn't that rich.

Loki pressed on with the task at hand.  “How do you want to do it?”

“I will lend my power to the spell, but I want you to cast the binding yourself.  You have an... affinity for that article.  Afterwards I'll mask what we have done.”

“Mm.”  Loki stroked the Casket.  “I do hate to give it up.”

Odin shook his head with a sigh.  “It's possible it will return to your care before long,” he said.  “If the giants do _anything_ with it that concerns me...”

_He cracked my skull and took my brother anyway_.

But he swallowed that down and went back to learning to bind.

* * *

When he was ready they sat across a table from one another, the Casket glowing between them.  Loki put his hands on it, unconsciously adjusting for the cold – and then straining to keep his own form while he did it.  Odin set hands on top of his and they were so warm they hurt.

He took a deep breath.  “If either of us makes a mistake with this spell they'll see what we've done, and they'll kill Thor.”

“Yes.”  Odin sounded unconcerned.

Out of nowhere the image came to him of Thor in Jotunheim, in the wrestling ring.  Only now it was so much more sinister, the mass of hard blue bodies surrounding the field, ready to jump in and-...  “Father, they'll _kill_ him.”

“I am not going to make a mistake, Loki.”  He sounded exasperated.  “Are you?”

He shook his head.  But the hot-and-cold was distracting, his hands _hurt;_ the Aesir body was not meant to bear temperatures like these.

Abruptly he pulled away.  “I don't want to trifle with this,” he said.  “If I'm touching the Casket I had best do it in my Jotun form – in my _real_ form.  You can avert your eyes if you want.”

“ _I_ have never averted my eyes from your Jotun form, Loki.”  Almost reproachful.  “I respect them.  I cherished you.”

Loki had already started shifting, and the snarl came easier once his face was hard and unfamiliar.  But all he said was: “There.  Let's try it again.”

He set his hands on the Casket and let Odin cover them.  Steam rose and it hurt, but Loki only glared and Would.  Not.  Wince.

Odin matched his look.  Was it just as uncomfortable for him?  Loki hoped so. 

Power flooded into him unexpectedly and he began working the spell, crafting it carefully, using Odin's fantastic power to bind his lovely toy.  It was a tight binding meant to withstand all manner of magical attack.  It was well done, and he got it on the first try.

(His brilliant success made Odin look uneasy for a moment.  He liked that.)

Afterwards Odin set concealing spells over the binding, fading Loki's work into complete invisibility.  They set the Casket in the ether.

“And now we prepare to leave,” the Allfather declared.  “Go and inform Heimdall of our plans.  I will bid farewell to your mother.”

“Can we trade?  I would much rather see Mother than-”

“ _Go_ , Loki.”

* * *

“Heimdall.”  Loki’s voice echoed through the observatory and only then did he realize he had neglected to change his form back.  Well, he would have to hope that Heimdall recognized him anyway.  “Odin and I are going after Thor.  Have you seen him – can you show me?”

“No, my prince.  The Jotun sorcerers are shielding him from my sight.”

“ _Priests_ ,” Loki corrected absently.  “It’s their priests who shield.”

“Priests, then.  I have not seen Thor since his departure.  I sense that he lives – the _priests_ allow me that much.  But I cannot see him.”

Loki nodded.  “Pay attention after we leave; if they’re negotiating in earnest with us I’ll demand that the shielding stop.  If not – if things go poorly – the visit will be brief and bloody and we’ll return soon.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“The Allfather said the same thing to Lady Frigga a few moments ago.”

And he was spying on them why?  Ah: to verify the truth of Loki’s instructions.  Suddenly Loki was intensely annoyed.  “I want to thank you,” he said, and had never sounded less grateful in his life, “For reading my message from the dungeon and acting on it so swiftly.”  He came closer, into the light, slow and predatory… and was a little disappointed that he got no reaction at all.  Heimdall was… Heimdall.  “I didn't know you had the power to wake Odin whenever you feel like it.”

“I can call to him in a way that others cannot.  Sometimes he listens.  But of course I cannot  _wake_ him without his cooperation.”

“Mm.  Why did you do it now?”

“To obey you.  You asked for the king.”

“You knew that I meant Thor,” Loki snapped.

But Heimdall gave no ground.  “Forgive me, my prince.  Thor was occupied.”

His only answer was a deep Jotun growl.  He came closer again, _very_ close, and finally at least forced Heimdall to tilt his head back for eye contact.  “We have no time for games, Guardian.  I demand honesty.  _Why_?”

Heimdall did not hesitate.  “Because I feared that Thor is too trusting where you are concerned,” he explained.  “In these dangerous times – for the good of the realm – I would not see you running unchecked.”

Loki had expected as much, and heaved a deep wounded sigh.  “Will you _ever_ come to truly trust me?”

“I hope not, my prince.”  Heimdall inclined his head, almost a bow.  “Asgard needs you as you are.”

* * *

TBC.

I'm not too mad at Heimdall for all this.  It's his *job* to be cautious and suspicious, and he often sees Loki being shady - and often sees that Loki is hiding from his view.  At least he didn't just ignore the message and leave him to rot.


	15. Chapter 15

_Asgard needs you as you are._

Loki turned the phrase over and over in his mind, wondering if there was some meaning to it that was _not_ insulting, and, when he decided that there wasn't, spitefully determined that _as you are_ literally meant Jotun and that he would represent Asgard blue.  Anyway, for his own peace of mind, the less he resembled Odin the better.  “I’m ready, Father,” he rumbled from the doorway.

Odin's reaction was dissatisfying; he didn’t bat an eye.  “Take my hand, we’ll travel together,” he said.  “You’re turning the ether into swiss cheese with your careless zipping back and forth.”

Loki frowned.  “I’ve grown used to relying on the Casket; I don’t know that I can easily transport two people without it.”

Odin snorted.  “ _I_ will transport us, Loki.”

It was not his preferred method of travel, but he didn’t argue – until Thor was back safe, everything else would have to wait.  “Of course.  Forgive me, I’m used to traveling with incompetents.”  He gave a sheepish chuckle and shrugged his massive shoulders – and they felt a little strange, a little too tight.  He had not yet learned to lie with his Jotun body language.

_Not that Odin will know the difference,_ he reminded himself.  The vast majority of Odin’s knowledge of frost-giant anatomy probably consisted of: _This is how to know when one is dead._

“Give me your hand.  And take care with your…” Odin gestured vaguely.  “You burn.”

He swallowed down all the things he might have said, and just reached out.  Odin nodded, gripped him firmly, and pulled them with confidence into the ether.

The trip was quick, smoother even than Loki did it.  When they arrived Loki turned out of habit to offer warming and lighting spells, but Odin was already swathed in furs and carrying his glowing staff.   “Where do they congregate, Loki?” he asked quietly.  “At the site of the old court, or have they chosen a new place?”

“A new place.  Much was destroyed, and it is ill fortune to build on red ice.”  Loki didn’t miss the way the Allfather’s eye narrowed and darted over him.  He fished around for another proverb.  Something even more unsettling.  Perhaps he could-

“Then, take us there.”  Odin’s voice was still mild, but somehow… different.  Formal, almost commanding.  It was a _king’s_ voice, and Loki much preferred it to anything paternal.    He inclined his head and struck out across the snow.

… And Odin kept pace with him, effortlessly, leaving a shining trail of gold sparkles in his wake.  _It’s a good thing we’re not trying to come in stealth,_ he thought, but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.  It was no good to start _joking;_ that would only tell Odin that he was nervous and he thought it best to play his cards close to the vest for now.

************************************

Thor’s head was finally starting to clear.  He was lucid enough now to know that he was sitting in the giants’ great hall beside their king _,_ that he had begun fainting, that the frost-giants had asked why and he had finally admitted: “…too cold...”

He had thought the cold was some kind of test.  Or mockery.  Something, some trick designed to expose him for a weakling, and he _would not_ be made to beg mercy.  So he sat, stony silent, in armor that had grown so chilled it burned his skin where it touched him, shivering, his heaviest cloak seeming to provide no protection at all.

And this was _indoors._ Imagine if the giants had held their court outside!

“We will speak after eating, Thor-King,” Helblindi had promised, and offered him a plate of… Jotun _something…_ and then proceeded to sprawl out on his throne chatting with his minions, ignoring the fact that Thor’s breath was visible and his hands shaking.

Thor remembered that much.  The later bits were fuzzy, the parts where he concentrated on breathing, on the buzz in his ears that said he had not yet fainted, on the faint low hum of Jotun voices in the background.  Misery gave way at last to lethargy, and he was so grateful not to be suffering any longer that he closed his eyes and planned to just slip off to sleep.

“ _Thor.  Thor-King._ ”   A purr in his ear, a touch on his face that was warm and crackling with magic.  “ _Do you sleep?  Are you unwell?_ ”

He’d admitted it at last, and then the next thing he knew was thawing out slowly beside the throne, in a heap of furs that emitted a lovely enchanted heat.

“Thor-King.”  Helblindi broke the silence at last.  “We will wait to talk.  Loki comes.”

_Loki?_ But Loki was tucked safe away, where he would not be forced – or allowed – to choose between his peoples.

But somehow, here he was; Thor heard his voice – his Jotun voice, anyway – echo through the hall.  “Greetings, cousin.  With respect: why have you taken my brother?”

_No,_ Thor wanted to say, _I came freely._   But it would be too much effort, especially when Helblindi was already speaking up to explain.  “You must know that Thor-King came of his own free will.”

“That’s what I heard, yes.  But then why have you hidden him from our Guardian’s sight so that we can’t check on him?  You've made Asgard very nervous.”

Helblindi chuckled.  “Is your king a child that he needs a minder wherever he goes?”   Then his voice lowered to gravel.  “We hid him for protection, child.  His and ours.  Both of our realms have enemies – and the death of Thor in the court of Jotunheim would breed bitter war between us.  I wanted no one to try.”

Interesting.  That _was_ clever.  Thor had never known that the giants were such careful tacticians… although, Loki was a giant, so perhaps it stood to reason that plotting was in their blood.  Thor clutched the blanket tighter around him and tried to follow along.

“… quiet,” Loki was saying.  “Have you drugged him?  Not that I would blame you.”

A shift from beside him, and then Helblindi’s heavy hand was on his shoulder.  “No.  We froze him near to death,” the giant said flatly, “Through inattention.  We forget how poorly Aesir bear the cold.”

“Ah.”

“We have begged his pardon.  He is warming.”

By now Thor had the energy to open his eyes, and the glowing ice along the walls threw enough light to study the face of the giant that stood before the throne.   It _was_ Loki, staring hard at him, eyebrows arched.

“Yes,” Thor rasped at last.  The effort nearly exhausted him.  “I’m fine, Loki.  And it was my fault.”

Loki still looked tense (as best Thor could tell, at least; he was still working on reading that face), but at that, the red eyes rolled at him, with affection.  “Why am I unsurprised that you chose to tough it out instead of reminding them?  You are a fool, Thor.  May I?”  That last was said in Helblindi’s direction, and when the giant nodded Loki came forward with a ball of magic between his hands. 

Thor closed his eyes and leaned into the spell, feeling heat surround him, feeling so good that he almost missed what the giant-king said next.  “Now to other things.  You have brought someone here who is not welcome, child.”   Thor was too gloriously warm to care.  “Odin Allfather stands outside this hall.  It is wise of him not to enter uninvited.  It would mean his life.”

_That_ certainly woke him up the rest of the way.

*******************************************

“Father?”  Thor sounded like he was emerging from a deep sleep.

“Hush,” Loki growled.  “Yes, he awoke.  It’s fine.  I’m taking you home and you can say hello there.  Whatever’s going on,” he said, loudly, “Be it negotiations, or war, or whatever, you can thaw out first and we’ll discuss it all later.”  He flashed an innocent look towards the throne.  “I trust that won’t be a problem, cousin?”

Helblindi shrugged.  “He is a guest, not a prisoner.  I wished to discuss alliance with him.  It can wait.” 

Well, that was good.   Thor was not a hostage, and Jotunheim was turning elsewhere for its war.  Things were looking up.

But Helblindi was not finished.  “Thor-King,” he said.  “I would discuss alliance with _you._ But there will be no alliance if a thief sits upon Asgard’s throne.”

Loki did his best to distract Thor with the trial of standing up.  “Come on – put your arm around me.  I’ve got you.”

“I can- I’m fine,” Thor protested, swatting at him.   (Loki was delighted to see that his Jotun grip was not as easily broken as his usual one.).  “Let go, brother.  And King Helblindi- _ow,_ let me talk, Loki!- your majesty, for the sake of the peace we hope to make between us, you’ll have to restrain yourself.  Do not call my father names, I warn you.”

Helblindi let out a deep rumble… a show of power, but not quite a threat.  “I hope you can forgive the insult, Thor.”  He ran his hand down an ice-blade and held up the bloody wound, the ritual apology.  “But my words stand.  Your father is a thief of babies; we will make no pact with him.”

“Let us not exaggerate,” Loki put in.  Perhaps humour could lower the tension.  “The Allfather stole just _one_ baby that we know of – and from the stories I hear, you were well rid of me.”  Odin was listening, he just _knew_ it.  Listening and couldn’t do a thing to stop him.

It was too much to resist.  “And besides,” he added, “Asgard is ready to make amends for that.  We've brought you recompense: something worth more than a runty little princeling.”  Oh, Odin would have his _head_ for this.  But strangely, he didn't feel afraid – only delighted.  It was common "knowledge" among the more ignorant elements of Asgard that Jotuns feel no fear… perhaps it was true? 

The giants were all standing silent and rapt.  He drew forth the Casket with an enormous flourish, because at this point what else was he going to do; he had thoroughly iced himself into a corner.

“The Casket of Ancient Winters,” he said solemnly, as if any of them would not know what it was.

Helblindi reached for it, mouth open...

...And Loki snatched it away, just in time.  “Hold,” he said.  “One moment.”  He had remembered, suddenly, that its magic was all bound up.  What had he been thinking?!  A useless gift, a taunt... _that_ would be well-received, wouldn't it.  He should not have brought it out.  Until he had time to undo what he and Odin had wrought, he would have to stop the giants from examining it too closely.

“Thor, hold still,” he murmured.  He floated the Casket with one hand, and with his other reached up to brush Thor’s hair back behind his shoulder.

“Brother… what are you doing?”

“I’ll heal this when we get home.”  Those were perhaps not the most reassuring words ever to have passed his lips, so he added:  “Trust me.”

He brought the Casket nearer, and touched it to Thor’s cheek for just an instant.  He had to use his own power to freeze through it, but the brazen sleight of hand worked perfectly; Thor flinched and gasped with pain.  “See?”  He turned Thor’s head to show off the dark ugly burn.  “The Casket has been safe in Odin’s vault all these years; it’s undamaged.”  He conjured a table of ice, and set it down.  “But wait until we leave to take it up, if you don’t mind.   It takes practice to control it, and I know you have no love for these Asgardians, and… we don’t need any more Stupidity.”

Helblindi smiled.  “Wisdom,” he said, and made no move to touch.  He rose to his full height.  “As our king I will accept Asgard’s reparation.”

“Excellent, cousin.  Now-”

“But know this, Loki:  as your brother, I yet ache.  He tore you from my arms.”

Loki froze.  _Your brother._   Maybe he could just vanish.  Disappear and never come back.  Leave Odin and the frost-creatures to hash it out, and first kill Thor because now Thor knew the truth, and go off like this by himself someplace where people wouldn't recognize him or expect anything of him or ever even look at him, ever again.   Maybe go back to the dungeon, where visitors couldn’t come uninvited and he could just stand in their excellent shower until he was good and ready to come out.

_Could_ he shower as a Jotun?  Or would the water just freeze?

Thor broke the moment by tugging on his arm – and hissing at the painful cold.  “Loki?”

Anything, _anything_ other than answer him.  “Don’t be dramatic,” he snapped to Helblindi instead.  “Odin picked me up off the _floor_.  There wasn't the slightest hint of arm-tearing.”

“That is truth.  Though he did break my head.”

“You put out his eye – he had every right.”  Ridiculous, to be _defending_ Odin.  For this or anything.  But if he kept arguing with Helblindi he could put off the moment where he had to turn and look Thor in the face, so...  “Besides, he healed you, didn't he?  So, no harm done.”

Thor at last staggered up to stand between them.  “Why didn't you _tell_ me?” he said – to Helblindi.  “I would not have kept you from your brother, you must know that.  I would not have been so... so greedy as to... my friend, I would not hurt _anyone_ in that way, Jotun or not.  You must be-… I am so sorry,” he finished, fumbling.

And _still_ not looking at Loki.  Which was annoying.  “Enough, Thor,” Loki snapped.  “I'm not a pebble, to be passed from one person to another.  There's no question of _greed_ about it.”  He looked at the floor.  “But also I apologize.  I should have said something.”

At that Thor spun to face him.  “ _You?_   You, you mean you-... You knew also?”

Loki swallowed.  Why had he even opened his mouth?  But it was too late now.  “Yes, I-… for a while now,” he admitted.

“And hid it from me?”

“Because I- I didn’t want-…”  He shut up.  It was silent now, everyone watching them, and he _hated_ that Odin of all people might be hearing this conversation unfold.  The hall door was still closed, but surely even the Allfather was not above listening at keyholes when stakes were this high.  “I should have told you,” he said, more for Odin's benefit than anything else.  _See, Father?_   His Jotun voice would carry easily out into the corridor.  “I was absolutely wrong to keep it from you – I was afraid you wouldn't feel as close to me if you knew, but that is no excuse and I know I've only made it all harder for you and I'm a disgusting coward and I’m so sorry I want to throw up.”

Thor didn’t seem to realize that most of the speech was not really directed at him.  “I don’t want your apologies, I want an explanation,” he snapped, standing straight, ready to _fight_.  He seemed to have forgotten all about his misery on Helblindi's behalf.

Loki shrugged.  “I… can’t give you one.”

“Are you allied with _him_ now?”  Thor didn’t wait for an answer.  “Is that it?  Were you planning to betray us?  To sell out your own people, _my_ people, to come help the Jotuns make war?”

His determination to set a good example was wearing away in the face of Thor's hostility.  Loki wanted to freeze him.  Had _he_ been this frustrating to Odin, when Odin finally came clean?  “Of course not, Thor,” he said, temper still firmly under control.  “But this isn't the time – we'll discuss it at home.”

“At home?”  Thor stepped closer, looked up at him.  “Is it even your home?  Or have you left us entirely, for _this_?”

“And what if I have?” Loki taunted, reflexively.  “Are you jealous?” It was the obvious answer to Thor’s tone.

Then he blinked.  Maybe Thor actually _was_ jealous; that’s what Sif had thought, anyway.  And she knew his moods as well as anyone.

Well, Loki could test her theory easily enough.  He cleared the nastiness from his tone and let his shoulders drop.  “Helblindi respects me, and what I can do,” he said evenly.  Quietly, now, because this was no business of the frost-giant court.  “He doesn’t accuse me of betrayal at every turn.  He’s never mashed me with a hammer in anger; in fact, he's never raised a hand to me at all.  And -oh!- yes.  He’s never _once_ sent me away to a torture chamber.  So if I _did_ leave you people to come to him… In all honesty, Thor, could you blame me?”

It was even more effective than he'd hoped; Thor crumpled immediately.  His mouth fell open, his eyes grew wet, and he reached out stupidly for a handful of frostbite, whispering “Loki, please...”

“ _No_ -!  You idiot – give me.”  Loki snatched the hand roughly and pressed it between his own palms.  He drew on what power he had – less, without the Casket, but still quite a lot – and soothed the damage.  Trying not to feel guilty.  He cast around for some roundabout way of offering comfort, and couldn't come up with anything, and finally just reminded himself that he'd already poured his heart out in front of Thor more than once ( _There was almost no information you would struggle to hold back_ ), and there was no reason not to tell him the truth.  “Thor,” he sighed, “The way you’re looking at me right now is exactly the reason I didn’t want to tell you.  I'm not going anywhere, brother – and I didn't want you to worry.”

“Loki…” Thor swallowed hard – more than once.  Then he shook his head.  “You're right.  This is not the time.  You will come home?  And we can talk there.”

“Of course.”  The burned cheek looked horrible, so when he was finished with the hand Loki fixed that, too.  “There.  Wouldn’t want you to become any uglier than you already are.”  He gave his best careless smirk, and tugged Thor a step towards the door.  “Come on – let’s get you home.”  They had to get out of here before anyone noticed something amiss with the Casket.  Once Thor was safe – and Odin was safely occupied – he could come back here by himself and talk his way out of trouble somehow, perhaps pretend he’d enchanted the Casket on his own initiative, without the King’s knowledge so it was nothing to declare war over, it was just a precaution, in fact it was meant to _help_ Jotunheim somehow, yes, it was, er, to keep the Casket from being misused by the greedy Asgardian magicians who had been buzzing around it lately.  Or something.  Once he got Thor out of here he would have time to think.

“Button your cloak, Thor.  We have to go outside; we can’t travel from in here”  He soon lost patience with Thor’s numb and clumsy Aesir fingers and did up the buttons himself.  Helblindi seemed to be watching the way his hands moved… nervous, protective.  If he guessed why…

But the giant only shrugged.  “Take your Asgardian home and warm him.  Again we apologize for his ill treatment.”

“It’s not your fault,” Loki said firmly.  “It’s his.”  Oh, Odin was going to _kill_ him for taking sides against the family in public.  Maybe he would have to move to Jotunheim after all.  He grinned.  Might as well go all the way!  “And, we look _forward_ to discussing an alliance with you,” he enthused.  “We can come back, or, or, we’d be honored to entertain a delegation officially in Asgard.  I’ll freeze part of the palace for you to make everybody comfortable.”

At last Thor elbowed him.  “ _Loki._ ”

Loki bowed.  “Til next time, cousin.”  He clasped Helblindi’s hand, and they iced over their joined fingers together.  “Have fun with your Casket.”  (If he _hadn’t_ said something congratulatory, it would seem suspicious.)

Helblindi’s smile looked a little dark.  “We will.”

*******************************************************

TBC.

We are approaching the end.  I am delighted to see Loki losing some of his wariness, and lapsing back into his old ways of inventing crazy plots as he goes along.


	16. Chapter 16

“ _What have you done_!?” Odin thundered, the instant they arrived in Asgard.

Loki stared.

“The Casket, Loki!  How could you?  How _dare_ you?”

“How dare I?  It was _your_ idea!  You authorized me!”  His voice was shaking the walls, but he was too upset to change back.  (And, he would hate to give up his height advantage.)

“I authorized you to _trade it for your brother's safety!_ ”

“And there he stands.  _Safe_!”  Loki widened his stance – of necessity.  Something was cutting into the top of his thigh suddenly, and squeezing his-... whatever Jotuns had under their loincloths.  He had yet to really sit down and examine.  “Hold,” he growled, and turned away to sort himself out.

“What's going on?” Thor said from behind him.  “Loki?  Are you all right?”

“He is fine – just berserk,” Odin said with authority.  “That's what happens to the Jotun when their anger overwhelms them.  They grow ridges and so forth, of dark ice.”

His skin – or whatever one called it – was itching.  His pulse pounded and he struggled to pay attention to what Odin was saying.  “This has never- it's- it won’t stop,” he stammered.  “I don't feel well.  Is it normal?”  There was a smooth hard shell between his legs now, which Helblindi had told him could happen _for protection._   “And I don't think it _'_ s anger,” he added, “Or at least not anger alone.  I believe this is a stress response.  Defensive.”  He looked at his wrists, which had indeed put forth small icy spikes.  “Or else the blades would happen, instead of this armor.”

Thor came a little closer – holding his hammer, at least; he wasn't _entirely_ brainless.  “Are you all right?  Is it hurting you?”

“No – I'm fine.  Just-... just give me a moment, maybe it will go away if I calm down.  Sorry.  I'm sorry.”

“You have many things to apologize for, Loki,” Odin sighed, “But this is not one of them.  Don't get any closer, Thor.  He's cold enough now to hurt you at a distance.”

_Suck in all the way, and hold it.  Now out._   He breathed slow and deep until the spines went down and his icy underpants melted away.  “All right,” he said at last.  “I think I'm all right.  Sorry about that.”

“Self-control is highly prized among the Jotun,” Odin put in.  “This is why.  When they fall prey to their feelings they lose fine coordination, they think poorly, all they can do is roar and smash and destroy.”

Loki finally turned back around to face them, nodding in his brother’s direction.  “And you’re sure _I’m_ the Jotun – not him?”  Thor's laugh was surprise and relief.  “I'm going to try to change back now.”

Odin nodded.

“... But not if you're going to yell at me.”  His eyes widened – he hadn't meant to say that _aloud._   Well, that was mortifying.  He tried to pass it off as belligerency.  “Understand?  I'm not in the mood to be terrorized.”

Odin gave an irritated wave that looked like agreement, so he shifted back and simultaneously conjured himself into clothes.

“Ah – there.”  He cracked his neck and waited for this form to feel natural.  “Much better.  Now, where were we?”

“We were shouting at you,” Thor said, his voice heavy with disapproval, “For doing exactly what you were told.  Father, that _isn't_ fair.”

Odin's didn’t give an inch.  “Loki knows it was not necessary to give them the Casket.  They now present a serious danger.”

Thor didn't seem to have a ready answer for that, so Loki jumped back in.  “You were willing to give it to them when you thought they'd _kidnapped_ Thor.  Are they any _more_ dangerous now that you know they were only being friendly?”   And much as he wanted to not think about this particular fact, he had to add: “Also, how useful will the thing really be to them after all your binding magic?”

“Binding magic?” Thor echoed, then gave a huge shudder.  Loki saw at once that ice was melting from his hair and running into his clothes; no wonder he was freezing.  He dried it with a gesture and Thor relaxed.  “Thank you, brother.”

“You're welcome.  Now why don't you go change and get to bed?  The cold wears on you.”

“If you're going to talk of diplomacy, I should probably...”

“-Fall asleep where you stand, and contribute snores to the conversation?”  Loki interrupted.  “We can manage without.  I'll fill you in when you wake up.  Go on.”  He flashed him the _look_ he used at counsel, the please-just-trust-me look.

Thor’s eyes darted briefly towards Odin.  His head cocked just a fraction.  _You have more to say to me, but you won’t do it in front of him?_  

Loki gave him the ghost of a nod. 

“Very well, brother,” Thor said at last, aloud.  “But wake me when you come in.”  (He was learning!  The first time Loki had tried to communicate surreptitiously with him at a big dinner he had barked “ _Ow-_!  Loki, that’s my foot; stop stepping on it!”) 

“I’ll be along soon.”  Once Thor had gone he faced Odin squarely.  The hair on the back of his neck was pricking up and his stomach churned, and he found the Aesir response to stress highly inferior to the Jotun one.  “Father,” he began, but Odin held up a hand.

“I don't know how Thor has been managing the throne in my absence,” Odin said, “I don't know what he's been allowing, but I caution you to think carefully before you open your mouth again.  _I_ will not tolerate disrespect.”

Loki nodded.  He felt his face settle into the familiar worried and remorseful look that one had best wear when being chastised by the Allfather.  “Yes of course.  I'm sorry.”

That seemed to smooth Odin's feathers a little.  “Mm.  I understand you've had a difficult day.”

“Yes.”

“Well.”  Odin sighed.  “You're welcome to share your views with me, Loki – as always.  But if I decide against you, you're to defer with grace.”  He shook his head.  “I've never had to remind you of that before.  It was always Thor who couldn't hold his tongue.”

_First I'm faulted for lying.  Now for being too honest._   “My day _has_ been difficult, and changing forms exhausts me,” Loki explained smoothly, with the most honest expression he could dredge up.  “Besides, as you mentioned, it's been some time since I've had to _defer_ to anybody.  Thor and I argue as equals.”  He shrugged.  “Though of course the final decision is always his.”

“Nominally.”  Odin did not look pleased.

“More than nominally.”  _In a manner of speaking._   “He's done a much better job as king than I would have expected.”

Odin looked grumpily gratified – as if _he_ had been the one complimented.  Perhaps now was a good time to ask questions.  “Father... and speaking of Thor as king... who's going to rule now?  Will you step down for good, or are you going to demote him?”

“Demote.”  Odin snorted.  “I have not decided.  If we went to war one of us would lead the campaign, and the other stay home to rule.  If we are _not_ going to war... I don’t know.  Your mother has always wanted to travel.  I could take her away for a while, leave the throne with you boys... Or perhaps I’ll stay, and send the two of _you_ abroad.  I don't know.  But I do know that the three of us are not the makings of a peaceful household right now.   It’s best if we separate for a time.”

“I don’t disagree with that at all.”  Loki swallowed.  “And… the frost-giants?”

Odin made a face.  “They are a threat but not an emergency, so I will turn my attention to Jotunheim tomorrow,” he declared.  “I promised your mother that I would spend the evening with her and that we would not talk of politics or of ruling.”

“Mm.  A word of warning, Father.”  Loki’s smile was easy and harmless.  “She’s going to bring up this baby griffin.  Thor’s already told her it can’t stay in the stables because it continually tries to eat the horses, and it'll soon be big enough to succeed.  Mother thinks she can tame it.  She’s sure to seek your support the minute your mood looks right, so be on your guard.”

Odin laughed and thanked him – ostensibly for the advice.  Their shoulders brushed on the way out the door and Loki made sure not to pull away.

* * *

When Odin was safely in the clutches of his poor neglected wife, Loki planned his next move.  He had unpleasant conversations with _both_ of his brothers coming... but the talk with Helblindi might actually result in his death, which would spare him the conversation with Thor entirely.  With that in mind, he left Thor sleeping and went on to Jotunheim.

It was the giants’ sleeping time, so Loki thought first that he should go to Helblindi's bedroom.

But then, through some instinct he could not quite articulate, he somehow _knew_ that he should try the throne room instead.

The court was deserted.  (And fucking cold!  But he had had enough of his Jotun form just now; after the thing had committed mutiny and embarrassed him in front of his family he wasn't sure he ever wanted to wear it again.)  He made his way through the halls with a ball of light in his hand, bundled up in a dozen furry layers, so that he tripped and bumped into everything.  _Good thing I'm not trying to come in stealth._

It seemed he almost _did_ come in stealth though; when he reached the throne room and cleared his throat to announce his presence, Helblindi stiffened as if he'd been startled.

The giant king stood with his back to the door, leaning over a table of ice.  Something on the table – no prizes for guessing what – glowed.

“Helblindi.  Cousin.  May I come in?”

A long pause.  “I see you intend no violence.  If you did, it would not be like you to wait.”  He turned around, and all Loki could see at this distance was a flash of teeth.  “Come in, child.”

Loki swallowed hard and ordered himself to be brave.  Frost-giants were not known for their cruelty – even their ritual executions were swift and humane.  “Doubtless you've realized by now that that's not working,” he said, nodding to the Casket without looking.  “And if you haven’t thought to blame me yet, you will soon.”

Helblindi nodded.  “I sensed that some of the winter was gone from you, the moment you arrived.  I knew at once that the Casket’s power had been suppressed.”

“You-?  Then why didn't you say anything?”

“You had already brought the Allfather into our midst.  I thought you might not be forgiven a second trespass so quickly.”  Helblindi shrugged.  “I would not see you harmed.”

“Thank you.”  He came up slowly.  “Cousin… shall I try to take the binding off?  I don't know that I can – it's largely Odin's own work – but I’m willing to try.”

“The Allfather surely has great skill,” Helblindi said politely.  “But so do you, child.  And you are of Jotunheim while the Allfather is not.”

So Loki sat down at the table.  The Casket seethed with trapped power, but it couldn’t burn him now.  Even his silly fragile Aesir skin was safe from it.

And speaking of his skin.  “Helblindi.  I wanted to ask you something.  It’s not important,” he assured fast, “It’s just a, a personal question, about… about my _true flesh,_ as you call it.”

Helblindi grinned and lolled his tongue out.  “Most boys ask this of their elders at the age of fourteen, child.  You are late.”

“Oh- _no_!  No no no.  It’s not that.  Please believe me I don’t want to hear-… that.”  Although really, he should, at some point, find out.  Maybe sex as a Jotun was better than what he was getting currently.  In which case…

But he ordered himself to focus.  “No.  What I want to ask is that earlier I was… frightened and angry.  And my body started to… change.  It-… I got-…”  He made a face and gestured, sketching spikes with his fingers.

“Ah.  I can explain it to you, and teach you to control it.”  Helblindi frowned.  “But that will take time, and I melt with worry.  Will you try to free the Casket first?”

“Oh, of course.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to hold it hostage.  I just-…” he laughed a little, realizing that he was stalling and that it made no sense.  “To be frank I’m a little worried myself,” he admitted.  “I’m worried that I won’t be able to fix it on my own.”

“Will you become _more_ able, if you sit there for ten minutes longer?”

“Um.  No.”

“Then try it now.”

_They certainly don't mince words, do they._   Loki nodded, swallowed hard, and rolled his sleeves up... 

“Helblindi,” he interrupted himself.  “What if I fail?”

“Then you run,” the giant said placidly.  “And I will find another sorcerer who can break this spell.  It will take time.”

“Oh.  I see.”  That didn't sound too bad, actually.  Perhaps he should fail on purpose.

“... And once our power is returned to us, we will punish someone for this cheat.  I will try to see that it is Asgard, and not you.”

On second thought, perhaps he should not fail.  He took another breath and tried to focus.

“Helblindi?”   He couldn't focus.  “What if I succeed?  What'll happen then?”

Helblindi's smile was very bright in the darkness.  “Then we make war.”

“Why – on who?  For what?  I don't understand.”

“You are distressed.  Do you truly hate war so much?”

“I- Yes.  Yes, I do.”  He wondered how to explain.  He could pretend to care about the elves or the pitiful little Midgardians or something, but Helblindi would never believe it.  “If you attack a peaceful realm, Asgard will probably step in,” he said instead – truthfully.  “And I _know_ I'll hate that.”  It was easier when they couldn't really make eye contact.  “I’ve warred on Jotunheim before, cousin.”

“I know.”

“You _don't_ know.”  Now, while he was still needed alive to unbind the Casket, now was probably the safest time he would ever find to confess.  “I don't mean when I came here with Thor for that ridiculous brawl.  Nor do I mean when I killed Laufey.  I mean...”  If he hesitated now he would never find the nerve again.  “I mean it was I who turned the Bifrost on you.  I myself.”

Helblindi's voice came low and mellow: “Ah, so it was.  I had wondered.”  And then nothing more.

“But-… You had?”

“That surprises you?”  Helblindi laughed.  “You have come near to telling me before.  Did you think me stupid?”

“No, but I didn't think you wouldn't  _care_ that I've butchered most of your family and friends!  They don’t matter to you?”

“They matter.”  He sighed.  “I wept long inches for the friends I lost in the Stupidity – two males and one female, the most loyal I had ever known.   And for my family as well.  There was Laufey, and also Byleistr who would have been my brother.  _Our_ brother.”

“Our-...”  Out of nowhere came a vivid image of little blue children playing together, and suddenly Loki couldn't breathe.  “We had a brother?”   His eyes were burning.  He shook his head.  _No._

“No longer.  He would have been our elder, but Laufey cast him from the family long before our time.”  Thank the _gods;_ Loki still felt a little sick but at least he could forget about the little blue children thing.  “I learned of him much later,” Helblindi went on, “When I was already grown.  He recognized me on a battlefield, by my marks.”

Loki didn't know what to say.

“So, yes: I knew loss when the Bifrost struck.  And I do _care_.  Though the Aesir mean a different thing by the word than we do.”

“Then, you must hate me.” 

“No.”  Helblindi was completely calm.  “I already knew you warred on us, child.  Why should I hate you for doing it well?”

“ _Well_?”  He had never seen what happened or heard much in detail; all he had was his imagination... but that was bad enough.  “I killed from afar with no warning and no discrimination,” he said flatly.  “That's not good war.”

“It's winning war.  And wars are to be won – else why fight them?”

“Is that really...?”  Loki sat back in his chair.  “Cousin, you're not making the idea of freeing up your Casket sound very attractive.  If that's what you're going to do with it.”

Helblindi leaned close and laughed in his ear – a low rumbling laugh that Loki _Did. Not.  Like._ He shivered and wished suddenly for his defensive spikes back.  Though he supposed his loving brother here might consider that an insult.  “You would bargain with me, child?  You would set conditions?”

“No,” Loki said quickly.  “No no.  I know I have no right.  The Casket is yours, and I will explain that to all of Asgard should anyone complain.  However.  I would _ask_ you,” he said delicately, “To use it carefully.  Brutality will win you no friends, and all the words in the world won’t stop our king – either king – from attacking if they think it’s necessary.  Please think carefully.”

Helblindi sighed.  Put a hand on Loki’s shoulder – a hand of bearable temperature.  “Your warning is well-taken.”

“But you’re not going to heed it?”

“Hush.  Our attack this night is not on you.  Nor on any realm that cannot defend itself.  It is glory I seek for my first war, and glory can only come from a glorious opponent.”

That was something, at least.

“Now free the Casket, child.  You would try the most endless patience.”

“Mm.  It’s a talent of mine, sorry.   All right, be quiet and let me concentrate.   This hopefully won’t take long.”

* * *

But it _did_ take long, it took hours and hours and every scrap of skill Loki had, and all the power he had, and even power he _didn’t_ have, which Helblindi lent him via ice-cold hands on his bare shoulders.  (His furs had been getting in his way, Helblindi was chiding him for not _letting winter in,_ and the Casket itself felt annoyed with him.  So he dropped his layers one by one, using magic to try and warm himself instead, promising himself that he would never, ever again try to spellcast shirtless in a dark subzero ice cavern.)

 When he was done he was so exhausted he had to have help bundling himself back up, and had to have help walking, and eventually even with a giant to lean on the walking was too difficult.   Through the last hallway and out to the courtyard, Helblindi carried him.  (Flung him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, actually.  And muttered complaints about Aesir weaklings the entire time.)

When they were outside he stood on his own two feet long enough to bid Helblindi farewell.  To promise to visit each other soon.  To plead once more for peace… and then, in case his pleading was in vain and all went south, to insist on a hug, which Helblindi reciprocated with a great deal of gruff amusement.

He dragged himself into the ether, and it was a good thing he’d worn a path home already because he was too exhausted to aim himself very carefully.   He was spit up on the floor of the throne room and he barely managed to stumble through the palace to his bedchamber.

He was at the end of his endurance.  The end!

So he was less than delighted to open the door and find Thor sitting on the bed awake, arms crossed, waiting for him.

“Loki.  We have to talk.”

* * *

TBC.


	17. Chapter 17

Thor’s voice was hard and controlled.  Some time ago that might have alarmed Loki, but over the course of Thor’s kingship he had grown to learn the difference between Thor trying to rein in his temper, and Thor just trying to sound Stern.

Tonight was clearly the latter.  So, Loki flopped down into a chair (the bed was too far away anyway) and put his head in his hands.  “I’ll tell you everything, but please: not now.”  In case that wasn’t pathetic enough, he added: “You know I don’t ask mercy lightly, brother, but I am _begging_ you to wait until tomorrow.  I am completely worn out.”

Immediately Thor was kneeling by his chair, trying to make him sit up straight, trying to get a close look at his face.  “Loki?  What’s the matter, what happened?  You look…”

“Fine.  I’m fine.”  He did his best to straighten up and look alert.  “Just tired.  I did some very difficult magic tonight, for some very high stakes, that’s all.   But Helblindi is not attacking Asgard and everything’s fine.  I’m fine.”

Thor heaved a sigh.  “Can we make a pact to never again say _I’m fine_ to one another?  It is always a lie.”

Loki laughed.

“I am _serious_ , brother.”

“And I am _seriously_ fine.”  Thor put a hand on his head… was he feeling for _fever_?  In a frost-giant?  Loki swatted it off, but gave a pat on the shoulder to make amends.  “I do know I owe you answers.  And you can have them, if you let me sleep a little first.  Agreed?”

Thor frowned.  “I learned some disturbing things tonight, brother, and I have been waiting to talk to you for hours already.”

The last thing Loki was in the mood to hear was _whining._ “And it doesn’t appear to have killed you, does it,” he pointed out.  “Surely you can wait a little longer – I’m so tired I can hardly think.”

“You don’t _need_ to think in order to have a simple conversation with me.”   The hardness in Thor’s voice was beginning to sound a little dangerous.  “Or rather, you _wouldn’t,_ if you planned to tell me the truth.”  He paused and Loki cast around for an answer, but he really _was_ tired, and his thinking sluggish, and before he could come up with anything Thor nodded.  “As I thought.  You want to wait until you have all your wits about you, so that you can spin me some lies.”

At least he could make a token protest.  “That’s not a very charitable interp-”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Thor challenged.  “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’ve misjudged you – tell me truthfully – and I will apologize.”

Loki made eyebrows.  “That will be a nice change.  Usually when I tell you you’re wrong, you throw a tantrum, and end up socking me in the mouth.”  He wondered why he was being so difficult, but it was already too late to retract the comment, because Thor was, indeed, now throwing a tantrum.

He was getting up and stomping off to the other side of the room.  Slamming his hand against the wall.  Saying, to the wall:  “That’s right – evade even that.  And then wonder why it’s so hard for people to believe anything you say.”

... The implication being, of course, that Odin had been totally reasonable to send him off to _prove_ his words.

A sudden sour bitterness in his mouth almost made him gag.  It occurred to him he would be carrying around this resentment for the rest of his life.  _You’ll never not have suffered._

Suddenly Thor’s good opinion mattered a whole lot less and he hardly cared what questions the idiot wanted to put to him now.  What had he to lose?   He sat up straight and folded his hands in his lap.  “What do you want to know,” he said quietly and without emotion.

Thor stiffened.  “Loki, don’t be that way.  I just wanted-”

“I said: What.  Do you want.  To know.”

***************************************

Thor had been as patient as he knew how, fighting for calm, refusing to raise his voice… but that icy tone was like a slap in the face and it was the last straw.  He pulled back at once.

“Very well, if that’s how you want to talk to me, I’ll take that,” he growled.  “Let us start with an easy question: do you have any _other_ secret brothers I don’t know about?”

Loki froze and suddenly he wished he could retract his words.  That had been needlessly cruel; he fully understood why Loki had minimized the tie with Helblindi and it was _beyond_ uncharitable to imply that he would- 

“Yes.”

_Yes?_   No.  Perhaps he had misheard.  “Beg pardon.  Yes?” he repeated stupidly.

Loki was looking away.  “Yes: I have another brother.  Had.  I just learned of it tonight,” he explained crisply.  “My eldest brother – I never met him.  Apparently I killed him with the Bifrost beam though.”

And that quickly Thor’s anger was gone, a deflating so sudden and powerful he felt dizzy.  He had no idea what to say now – this was a minefield.  “Brother, I’m so sorry,” he hazarded at last.

Loki went on as if he hadn’t heard.  “His name was Bystir or something, I don’t remember.  Helblindi said it once and I didn’t ask again.  I didn’t care to know.”

“I-… I am sorry _..._ ”

“It doesn’t matter.  I never even met him,” Loki said again.  “And he wasn’t really my brother anyhow, not anymore – Laufey disowned him.  I don’t know why.”  He looked back and his face was blank and his eyes empty.  “That is all the family – or ex-family – that I know about.  Next question.”

There were a number of topics he needed to discuss, but first: “Loki, there is no such thing as _ex-family_ ,” he reminded, as gently as he could.  It was an argument they had had many times since Loki’s great revelation, and he never failed to put his foot down about it even when Loki was only joking.  _I don’t have to entertain them this time, Thor; they’re only my ex-cousins now.  How could you forget your mother’s birthday, you insensitive lout – even her ex-son remembered to get her a present!_ It was never something he allowed Loki to say, and now, given what it would mean here, he was going to allow it even less than ever.

Loki snorted and rolled his eyes.

The contempt stung.  “Don't roll your eyes at me, brother.  I _said,_ you will _not_ disavow that giant just because Laufey cast him out.”  Loki stopped looking blank or scornful and started looking worried, which was wise of him because if he didn’t take back his words he was about to get his face smashed.  “ _Ex-brother_ … Is that what you said of me?  After Father-…”  He had to pause a moment because his throat was closing.  This was not something he talked of.  Even the Teachers had had trouble pulling the story from him.

Loki looked surprised a moment and then laughed.  The laugh was not friendly.  “And once again everything is all about _you._ How reliable you are, brother.  It’s comforting, in the midst of all this change.”

Thor tried to breathe deep.  A fair point.  It was a fair point; he was not so far gone he could not recognize that… but still.  “Do not mock me, Loki.  Not about this.  Just tell me the truth.”

Loki pursed his lips.  “The truth?  Very well: the answer is _no_.  No, I did say to anyone that you were my _ex-brother._ Next question?”

Thor had already heard more than he cared to.  He sighed and waved it all away.  “Never mind.  I am not in the mood to battle, brother.  I only wanted to talk.”

“Clearly.  And why should it matter that _I_ only wanted to sleep?”

“All right – all right _._    I _said_ : enough.  I’ve surrendered.”  He could hear the authority in his own voice… he really did sound like a king… and realized he had no idea how to make it go away.  “You are taking everything the wrong way and I have had enough.  We can go to sleep now, as you wish, but _stop being nasty to me_.  You know I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

Loki laughed again, and dipped his head from his seat.  “Of course, Your Majesty.  As you wish.  But might _I_ pose a question?”  Without waiting for permission he did.  “Do you think that barking orders at me will make me become _less_ nasty?”

“Not really, no.”  Thor shrugged.  “But I believe I have run out of options.  And my most trusted strategist is currently acting an enemy to me, for reasons I don’t fully understand, so I can’t even ask him for help.”  He crossed his arms and waited.  If Loki wanted to be groveled to, that was the closest he was going to get.

Silence for a moment.  Then, reluctantly, almost sulking, Loki suggested: “You could try asking nicely.  Ask me _nicely_ if we can put off the weighty discussions til tomorrow and have a truce for now instead.”

Thor heaved a sigh.  It had been _Loki_ who wanted to stall the conversation, and now, somehow, _he_ was the one made to beg for it.  But at this point he would try anything.  “Loki, may we have a truce for now?” he repeated dutifully.

“… Please,” Loki prompted.

“Loki, may we have a truce for now _please._ ”

Amazingly, Loki shrugged and relaxed in his seat.  “Fine.   I will not burn your realm this night, as my frosty brethren would say, and we can pick up tomorrow with the discussion of all the ways in which I’ve wronged you.  How does that sound?”

It sounded nasty, but it was otherwise the right idea.  Thor shrugged.  “Fine.  Now stop glowering at me, and come to bed.”

He went and started fussing with the covers, organizing the pillows, because it gave him something to do that Loki couldn’t possibly misinterpret. 

Then Loki said, from behind him:  “I’m sorry.”

Clearly it had not actually happened – there was no explanation other than wishful thinking.  “What?”

But Loki laughed softly – a nervous, uncomfortable sound – and _said it again._   “I said I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult.”   Then, with almost a touch of accusation, he added: “I _told_ you I’m not feeling well.  I won’t be this awful in the morning.  All right?”

Loki was still a minefield, and Thor decided not to try guessing at what words might form a safe response.  Instead, he stopped with the bedding and crossed the room without speaking.  He put his hand behind Loki’s neck and shook him lightly.  Kissed him on the forehead.  “Come to bed.”

He didn’t miss the way Loki relaxed for a moment… before making a face and pulling away.  “ _Ugh,_ Thor,” he complained, rubbing at his forehead.  “No _kissing._   I’m not twelve and you’re not my mother.”

“You still let Mother kiss you when you were _twelve_?”  It was out before he could stop himself, but fortunately Loki did not take real offense.

“Don’t think I am too tired to conjure scorpions…” he warned.

“Into your own bed?  You would, wouldn’t you.”

Loki chuckled.  “Of course.  Vengeance is a dish I’ve often enjoyed from the healing room.”

That was true, and sobering, but before Thor could think too hard about it Loki was already adding:  “It's far better than that horrible broth they serve.”

*****************************************

He had argued with Thor and _they had both walked away unscathed._   Loki could hardly believe it.  No blood drawn, no resentment boiling, almost no feelings hurt at all.  This was a first.

That energized him enough to rise from his chair and make for the bed…

… But he should have known it was too good to be true.

“Hey!  No,” Thor declared with authority, and yanked him by the collar.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Into-…”    _Into my bed,_ he would have said, only in a flash he remembered that it was actually _Thor’s_ bed, and that he was a guest whose welcome could be worn out at any time.   And apparently just had.

Still.   As upset as Thor must be to learn tonight that his place had been usurped by a monster, he still could have found a gentler way of kicking his former little brother out.   Sudden unceremonious exile really _was_ unkind, and by focusing hard on feeling annoyed, Loki at last felt able to make eye contact.  “You said _:_ come to bed,” he reminded shortly.  “Forgive me for presuming that you meant come _here_.”

Thor blinked.   “What?”  They stared at each other a moment, and incredibly for once it was _Thor_ who reached understanding first.

“I don’t want you to _leave,_ Loki.”  He shook his head.  “I only don’t want all that icewater.  Change your clothes first.”

“Oh.”  Loki looked down at himself.  He _was_ dripping icewater, his clothes were soaked with it, but here in the warm of Asgard’s castle it was not even enough chill for him to notice.  Interesting.  “Is it really…?”

Thor stepped up and put a hand on his neck: a very _warm_ hand, he noticed now.  “Yes: you’re freezing.  And no wonder; there’s snow in your collar.”  He heaved a sigh.  “I can tolerate your breathing an icy draft down my neck while you sleep, but is it too much to ask that you don’t deliberately import half of Jotunheim into our bed?”

_Deliberately import…_ He bit down on a smile – unsuccessfully.

Thor huffed.  “I did not mean that.”

“Oh?  So you _do_ want…?”  He ducked and then retreated out of swatting range.  “Now I’ve heard stories, Thor, but really – _half_ of Jotunheim?” he teased.  “Even _you_ are not that voracious of a- _urgh!_ ”

His mouth was suddenly full of fur as Thor tangled him up in his own cloak.   He thrashed and struggled – instinctively, and as futilely as ever.  “For someone so tired you’re certainly a handful,” Thor observed into his ear.   Muffled through all the layers.

When he stopped fighting he was released.  Thor stood with his arms crossed.  “Spell your wet things dry, or take them off, or sleep on the floor.  Those are your choices.”

But Thor had been manhandling _carefully_ for a change, and sounded at least as much amused as exasperated, and Loki was curious about what he would do.  So, he dove for the bed without warning, exactly as he was.

“Loki-!”  And then they were tussling again.  “Fine – if that’s how you want to-”

“Ow-!”

“Loki-”

“ _Ow_ – you’re tearing it,” he protested as his cloak strings ripped.

“Then help me.”

But he wouldn’t, because it was amusing to lie completely limp and watch the great god of thunder grow more and more frustrated at simple tasks like buttons and ties.  (A little magic might, possibly, have been making the buttons and ties more difficult than usual.)

“ _Loki._   If you won’t help will you at least not hinder?   Please: sit up.”

“No.”  He let out a sound that was embarrassingly close to a _giggle_ as Thor tried to hold him upright with one hand and tug his shirt over his head with the other.  He didn’t resist, but the moment he was released he flopped limp to the bed again.  “My arms don’t bend that way,” he pointed out patiently.  Still limp.

“They will when I’m finished with them,” Thor growled – but tried tugging in a different direction.  When he tugged too close to the headboard:  “Watch your head.”

“I just want to sleep,” he whined.  He really _must_ be exhausted, to think that any of this was funny.  “And I can’t understand why some idiot is trying to undress me against my will.  Maybe I’ll have to call guards in here to protect my virtue.”

By now he was lying on his back and had been dragged halfway off the bed, because Thor was trying to pull his shirt off his arms without having undone the sleeve buttons first.  “ _Loki._   Please,” he begged – but under his very real exasperation Loki detected the makings of a laugh.

“If only you and Sif had played with dolls instead of swords your whole childhood,” he sighed, “Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult.”

Thor struggled with the shirt a little longer, and finally let go.  “Would you prefer to sleep like that?”

Loki considered saying _yes_ just to irritate… but then Thor might actually make him do it, and the wet clothes _were_ unpleasant and now his shoulders were starting to hurt.  “Oh, _fine,_ ” he said.  “Help me up.”

Thor hauled him up to sitting, and helped him reverse his shirt back up his arms to expose the buttons.   Once he could see his cuffs he moved to undo them, but given that he was still all tangled up the motion of one wrist sliding across the other felt like-

Like unpleasant.   He jerked away from the position, but his movements felt hampered, _restrained,_ and without wasting a single second more he closed his eyes and obliterated the shirt completely.

He spread his arms wide and stretched them over his head.  “There,” he said brightly.  “Solved.”

Thor clearly understood – he had sobered up and now kept his hands to himself.  “Forgive me, brother.”

Loki had never cared much for horseplay, but he _would_ _not_ be too fragile for it.  “Forgive you what?” he said, with a smile.  “I’d be more worried if you _could_ undress an unwilling bedmate.   Give me my nightshirt; I’ll do it.  You’d probably stuff me in backwards.”

_Or upside-down,_ Loki prompted mentally.  _Which would be an improvement over your usual looks._

He waited, but it seemed Thor was no longer in the mood to tease him with harmless insults.   So he just dressed quietly and lay down.

Once it was dark Thor said:  “I miss that.”

“Miss what?”

“Your playing with me.   Do you remember how we used to _play,_ as children?  Until you turned so serious.  And guarded.”

“Mm.”  _You should have thought of that before you-_   But now was not the time to disturb their peace.  “I grew up,” he tossed off instead.  Even that sounded a little too weighty in the dark, so he reached out and nudged Thor’s shoulder.  “You should try it some time, brother – it’s supposed to be good for you.”

********************************************

TBC.

Sorry, I’ve been distracted by some other writing lately.  I won’t disappear again - promise!


	18. Chapter 18

Thor was on his way to breakfast when he was _summoned._

It had been so long since anyone had had the power to summon him that it took him a moment to wrap his mind around the concept.  Yes: Father.  Awake.

He spent the entire walk to Odin's chambers trying to remind himself of what it felt like _not_ to have control, to bow to another's wishes.  “Good morning, Father,” he said when he arrived.  That quickly, he knew he had failed – even his manner of speech was inappropriate.

But Odin did not seem to mind.  “Come in, my son.  I would speak with you in private.”  They both turned and gestured their respective guards away.  Once they were alone Odin said: “Where is your brother?”

Immediately Thor felt wary.  “Loki is asleep,” he said.  He could tell at once that he sounded nervous and defensive, and he tried to imagine how Loki would advise him if he were here.  _He knows, Thor – or he will.  There's no point lying about something he'll only learn on his own._ “He spent much of last night in negotiations with the Jotun chief.”

“Negotiations.”  Odin's eye narrowed just a bit.

If it was meant to be a question, Thor had no answer.  He cleared his throat.  “I told him I will require a full report,” he said.  “He will give it to me this morning.  He was too exhausted when he arrived.” 

“I see.”

Thor tried to keep his face impassive, instead of smiling over just how _exhausted_ Loki had been.  He had been mercurial in the extreme, going from a sulk to a rage to pure giddiness in a matter of moments.   That last was a joy to see; it was so rare for Loki to relax his guard these days.  But it would not do for Father to hear that – any of it.  He had too much suspicion where Loki was concerned already.  

In fact, he decided to shelter Loki from Odin's irritation as much as possible.  “ _I_ gave permission for him to sleep late.  When he arrived home he was completely worn out.”

Odin frowned.  “Thor...”  He seemed to choose his words carefully.  “Have you ever thought that it might be unseemly for your brother to go on sleeping in your bed?”

Of course he had.  And he had always answered himself, angrily:  “Do you mean, it might be unseemly for my brother to go on feeling that he requires protection?  After what his own family had done to him?”

Odin looked stormy – very – and he withdrew the comment.  Loki would not have appreciated it, anyway.  He would have preferred his usual evasion and deflection.  “...Or are you referring to the way the gossips took to calling him _my queen_ for a while?” he asked.  “Loki himself put a stop to that, with firmness and some fantastic magic.  You would have been proud of him, father.”  _For once._

“I _am_ proud of him; I'm proud of both my sons,” Odin said stiffly.  Thor could see that his rebellious, uncooperative attitude had been noted.  He knew he should stop volunteering speech in Loki's favor; it would only serve Loki ill in the end if Odin came to worry that he had too much influence.  But deviousness was _Loki's_ strength, not his, and he couldn’t resist plowing ahead a little further.

“Well.  Are you planning to go to the throne room this morning?”  he asked.  “Or should _Loki and I_ just hold court ourselves, as has become our habit?”

Instead of rising to the bait, Odin ignored the _Loki and I_ entirely and proceeded to remind Thor just why he was not yet ready to rule alone.  “The people just saw a frost-giant whisk you off to Jotunheim,” he reminded calmly.  “Half of them must already fear that war is coming.  My appearance would suggest that their fears are founded, while yours would tell them that all is well.”  Thor kicked himself – hopefully invisibly – for not having thought of that himself.  “So: _are_ we going to war?”

Thor swallowed.  “Loki says not,” he said firmly, _trying_ to radiate confidence and trust.  (And secretly cursing Loki for leaving him in such a position of ignorance.)

“Very well.  Then the throne room is yours.  Go.”

It was a rather mixed message, ceding him the throne room while dismissing him like a servant, and Thor tried to puzzle it out as he made for the door.

He was almost out when Odin called after him:  “Thor.  One more thing.”

He winced and did not turn.  “Yes, Father?”

“I won't ask you to cast Loki out of your bedchamber.”

_Good, because I would not do it._

“... Instead, I'll talk to him myself,” Odin went on.  “He cannot stay there, if for no other reason than you won’t be able to take a wife so long as Loki occupies her sleeping-space.  Now go.  Find out what happened last night – and before you go trumpeting it all around the palace, whatever it is, you come and tell _me._ ”

* * *

By the time Loki woke up, the day was half over and court had long since started.  He dressed fast and dashed in, keeping himself invisible with a spell as he rushed up the stairs to take his place behind the throne.

Thor signaled for him to conjure up his own throne instead and sit down, close.  “Afternoon, Loki,” he muttered.  “Did you sleep well?”

They had mastered the art of pretending to listen to petitioners while holding whispered conversation out of the sides of their mouths.  “No worse than usual.   Yourself?”   He scanned the crowd: no Odin.

“I slept a bit, but most of the night I spent thinking.” 

Loki gave a quiet laugh.  “Poor thing – that must have been _exhausting_ for you.”

Thor moved his hand from the arm of his own throne to Loki’s, where it looked to be resting easily… and squeezed until Loki’s knuckles creaked.   Loki forbid himself to squirm visibly and held out as long as he could, but eventually it hurt too much to ignore and he gave in.  “ _All right_ all right enough, I’m sorry” he hissed, and the pressure eased at once.

Thor chuckled – clearly he had meant no harm, but that did not mean retaliation wasn’t called for.  Loki chilled himself instantly, enough to burn Thor’s skin.

“Ow- Loki!”  They separated and went back to pretending to pay attention to court for a while. Loki felt he had won that round and was pleased about _that,_ but he was a little troubled that the scuffle had taken place at all.  Thor had not laid a violent hand on him _once_ in all the time since… his return… and while it was galling to be considered a weakling it had also been nice to be exempted from battery for a change.  But now it seemed Thor had taken last night’s foolishness to mean that excessive caution was no longer needed.

He wondered if there was a way to suggest otherwise that would not be _too_ costly to his pride.  He couldn’t think of one.

“Loki?”  Thor whispered in his direction after a while.  “Are you all right?”

He glanced down and realized that he was wringing his hands, trying to stretch out his cramped fingers.  “I’m fine,” he whispered back, and made himself stop.  “Yourself?”

“Of course.”  After a moment he added: “Though that freeze was impressive – you did it as well as-… Oh.”

Loki snorted.  “As well as one of those nasty old frost-giants?”  Then he shrugged.  “You should be more impressed by all the times I _don’t_ burn people.”  Then he blinked.  Thor’s enormous strength was no more his fault than Loki’s temperature; perhaps Loki should stop complaining about the times he didn’t control it and be more impressed by the times he did.  “I’m fine – honestly.  But you should feel free to _not_ beat up on me, if the mood ever strikes you.  Consider it an open and heartfelt invitation.”

Thor shifted in his seat.  “Understood,” he said at last… and Loki found he actually believed him.

He thought around for something to give in return.  Ah.  “Shall I tell you want happened last night in Jotunheim?” he said.

He glanced over just in time to see Thor’s jaw clench.  “Father wants a _report._    I suppose that’s not unreasonable, so I want you to tell me everything I need to know – everything I have a _right_ to know – as your king.”  Loki could tell he wasn’t done, so he waited.  Sure enough, after a while:  “However.”   Thor kept his eyes on the court and didn’t try once to look over.   “I suppose it’s not my place to ask about anything personal that passed between you and-…”   His voice was harsh and strangled but he forced it out: “Your brother.” 

That was… so backwards.  Loki shook his head.  “No,” he said.  He turned in his seat to face Thor head-on, audience be damned.  A quick charm to protect them from being overheard, and he said firmly:  “Listen – and enjoy this, Thor, because it’s not a discussion I will have with you again.  Now: _You_ are my brother, and I promise you one is more than enough.  Helblindi and I are comfortable as cousins.  That is all.”  He frowned.  “But since when are you so respectful of my secrets?  As I recall, last night you were willing to tear my arms off to get at them.”

Thor made the expected protests and defenses.   When he was _finally_ satisfied that Loki was only joking, he got back on topic and admitted:  “Father is going to pry whatever I know out of me.  So, if there is anything you don’t want him to hear, you had better not say it.”

There were many possible answers Loki could give to that, beginning with a tirade about what _idiotic_ policy it was to drive wedges between Thor and his most necessary counselor… but they were busy right now and this was not the time.  He settled for reaching over and laying a soothing magic over Thor’s burned wrist.  “Thank you for the warning, brother.”

* * *

He made Thor his _report_ when court was over,and Thor went off to go tattle to Odin, and before too long Loki was summoned to the royal suite.

Odin was waiting for him at his desk… and Frigga was sweeping around the room in a long golden  ballgown.  Half a dozen other gowns were laid out on the bed.   Loki blinked.  Greeted Odin with a bow and a murmur of _Allfather._ Then he cocked his head in Frigga’s direction.  “Mother.  It’s not New Years.  It’s not Father’s birthday.  Nobody’s coming to visit.  What are you doing?”

She was turning in front of a mirror, looking at herself from all sides.  “Your father has said he’s seriously considering leaving Asgard for a time.  Hm.”  She turned a little further.  “Come let this seam out for me.”

“What?”

She faced him, scowling.  “Will you force me to call a seamstress and admit that I can no longer fit into my favorite gown?”

“Mother…”

“Hush.  Loki, come, it won’t take long.  Come here _._ ” 

He did as he was told, went down to one knee and saw that she was right: the fabric was stretched too tightly across her hips now, just a little, bunching where it should lie smooth.

And here he was, a Prince of Asgard – practically a king – kneeling on the floor doing the work of women and servants.  No wonder people felt so free to question his manhood.

“Thank you, dear,” she said.  “Spell it just a little looser, there where it’s- yes, there.”   While he began to fiddle with possible enlarging spells she said over his head:  “Odin, I’m sorry, this will only take a moment.  But I _can’t_ be seen like this.”

Odin hmphed.   “Very well.  Loki: I will meet you in the library,” he said, and left.  Closing the door behind him.

Loki sighed and knocked his head against her leg.  “Thank you, Mother.  I’m sure Father is _delighted_ to see me sewing instead of out smashing things with an axe.”

“Mm-hm.”  She puffed up her hair in the mirror.  “That will keep him away for a while, don’t you think?”

He stared up at her, suddenly aware that it might have been an error to keep his mother so thoroughly boxed out of politics lately.  Her wit and experience could have made her useful as much more than just a hostess at formal dinners.  “Mother?”

“Now, where were we?”  She didn’t take her eyes off her hair.  “Ah.  Yes: your father has said he’s considering leaving Asgard.  He’s _said._ ”

“But you don’t quite believe him.”  Loki tried to keep up.  “Then why are you packing?”

“To send a message.”  She laughed softly.  “Your father may not _think_ he listens to me, but he often hears more than he means to.”

Loki nodded.  “How can I help?”

“ _Tell him_ ,” she answered at once.  “Tell him about you and the frost-giants.  Tell him how good they’ve been to you.  How open to the friendship of Asgard.  How much _you_ , in particular, mean to their leader.”

He suspected that if he did, Odin might suddenly rediscover the joys of banishment.  He made a face.   “Why?  Doesn’t he mistrust me enough already?”

“With the Jotuns at your back you command respect,” she said.  “He will respond to that.”

_Respond how?_ he wanted to say, but he supposed he saw her point.  If the balance of power were so tilted, if Jotunheim was friendly to Asgard _through Loki,_ then he gained an importance that Odin could not ignore.  Odin could not shunt him off to the side then.  In fact, he might well decide to firm up relationships with other realms _himself_ in order to keep things even. 

He nodded and got to his feet.  “You are wise as ever, Mother.”

“Mm.”

He kissed her and made to leave, but she caught his arm and tugged him back.   “The Allfather can wait five minutes,” she declared.  “I really do need my gown fixed.”

* * *

TBC.

Gah, I’m sorry this is both late and short.  But the Loki/Odin conversation – in which Stuff Starts To Happen – was taking me longer than I expected to write.   So here’s this much so far, and we’ll hear from those two as soon as I can finish it up.


	19. Chapter 19

When Loki got to the library, Odin was waiting at a table.  “Sit down, my son.”

Loki stopped in his tracks.  “I’ve acknowledged Thor as my brother,” he said, “But that does not mean I’m ready to pretend at a family bond with  _you,_ Allfather.”

Odin nodded placidly.  “You will be ready someday.  But I apologize – I should not have pushed.”

Ah, so now he had been granted the right to feel as he felt –  _temporarily._   How generous.

Still, he knew it would only be wise to antagonize Odin to a certain point, so he ducked his head and said, “I appreciate your understanding.”

Odin was as quick as ever to believe (or pretend to believe) that humility was genuine.  He gestured Loki into a seat and Loki sat with full confidence.

“Talk to me about the frost-giants, Loki.”

He cocked his head.  “I understood Thor already relayed the events of last night to you.  I don’t have anything to add – I told him everything.”

“No – more generally,” Odin said.  “I understand you have acknowledged one of them as your brother.”

Irritation flared up faster than he could control.  “No.  Did Thor tell you that?  That’s only his jealousy talking; I have pointedly  _not_ acknowledged Helblindi as my brother.  We discussed it just today.”

“This… Helblindi?...  He is the son of Laufey?”

“Yes.”   _The one who put out your eye,_  he might have added, but saw no reason to complicate his diplomatic problems further.

“Thor says you have great affection for this creature, and that you hold him in high regard.”

“Thor is right,” he said immediately, without flinching.  “For once.”

“I see.”  Odin frowned.  “Then, you don’t wish to name him your family because… he is Jotun?”

“A feeling I am sure you understand.”

Odin sighed.  Put both elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands wearily.  “Not again, Loki.  For the last time: If ever I wished to reject you, it was because you’re a traitor and a murderer by choice.  It had nothing whatever to do with your race.”

How sweet!  He swallowed.  “Well: Helblindi and I were technically born as brothers, yes.  We have agreed to claim a cousinship instead.  It felt more…”   _Bearable._   “Honest.”

“I see.”  Now he looked much less weary.  His eye was piercing.  “And your relations are good?”

_Mother, if you are wrong and he calls in the guards…_   “Very good,” he said tightly.   _I disobeyed you for him._   “We share a vision: we are trying to build better relations between our realms as a whole.  Helblindi’s come quietly to meet Thor and his friends, and Thor came with me to Jotunheim for a more open visit.  Still informal, but there was no hiding: Helblindi introduced him to his people as a king and a guest.”  He tried to gauge Odin’s reaction.  “The Jotuns were very understanding.  Welcoming, even.  They are in some ways a surprisingly enlightened people.”

Odin was silent, giving nothing away.

Loki thought fast.  If Frigga was right – and after he’d committed this far, she had better be! – he needed Jotunheim to be friendly to Asgard  _through him._   A prerequisite for that, of course, was that Jotunheim had to be friendly to Asgard.  How?  His power to alter inter-realm relations was limited now that Odin was awake; Odin had the ability to quash any plan he didn’t like.  So: leverage his guilt to get his cooperation.  “The problem we’ve had,” he went on, “Is we’ve been afraid to bring an official delegation here, because our people will likely be reluctant to host a contingent of monsters in Asgard’s halls, even if Thor orders them to.  We fear a riot.”

“You won’t make much progress changing Asgard's opinions if you tolerate language like that,” Odin lectured.  “We don’t say  _monster_  for the Jotun.  Not in my house.”

Loki rifled through his memories, and: it was true.  He couldn’t remember Odin having ever used a term other than  _frost-giant_ , or  _Jotun_  in official speeches.  Still.

He gave a sulky little shrug and looked down.  “It’s what people say.”

“You’re the son of the- You're the-… You’re the advisor to the king,” Odin pointed out.  Shaking his head impatiently at his own uncharacteristic fumbling. “The people will say what you tell them to.”

Loki had the oddest impression that Odin had almost said  _you’re the king,_  and for a moment he felt flattered… and then he began to wonder whether Odin was playing him just as competently as he was playing Odin.

“Well: will they host an official visit if I tell them to?”  he pressed.  “I doubt it.  I doubt they would do it even for  _you._ ”

Odin snorted.  “I am centuries past that sort of manipulation, Loki.”

Was he?  Because a moment later he waved weary permission.  “Have the visit, then.  I’ll stand behind it and I promise you the court  _will_ cooperate.”

Loki nodded.  “Thor and I will work out the logistics with Mother and Helblindi,” he said.  “We’ll run the plans by you once we have something viable.”  He pushed his chair back.  “So now you know about me and Helblindi, and you may even see our alliance in action.  Is there anything else?”

Odin shook his head.  I will see you at dinner.”

Loki ducked his head and started to take his leave.

“Oh – Loki.  Forgive me, yes.  There is one more thing.”

He stopped, back still carefully to Odin, and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Father?”  _Ugh._  Father. He had to watch that; he was only giving false hope.

“Your bedroom. It seems your old rooms have for some reason grown distasteful to you? In that case we can furnish you new ones.”

He knew it was only a matter of time before someone kicked him out of Thor's. He wondered whether Thor had let slip something about last night –  _Loki and I had a spectacular wrestling match, Father, you should have seen._  Or maybe... something worse.  _Father, Loki clings to me like a frightened child at night and I want him gone but I don't have the heart to throw him out myself... will you do it for me?_

No. Nothing like that. It couldn't be.  (Could it?)

“If it's the solitude you find distasteful,” Odin went on into the silence, “We can get you a wife. Or a bed-slave.”

Loki spun to face him, irritated. “I don't need a wife or a bed-slave,” he said without thinking, “I have Thor.”  _Oh, that didn’t sound at all disrespectful._  He tried not to wince visibly.

Odin, thankfully, ignored him. “No one will rush you, but I want you to start looking for another solution. Hiding behind your brother is beneath you.”

That was kinder than he'd expected; he had thought Odin would sooner point out that playing nursemaid was beneath  _Thor._ He ducked his head and promised (lying) to start looking into  _other solutions_ , and left.

**************************************

So, Loki began planning an official reception.   Odin gave him a few books so that he could read up on previous attempts to make friends with the frost-giants, and on bygone eras when peaceful coexistence had seemed possible.  Then he sat with his mother for hours listening to stories of diplomatic visits gone wrong, and right, and tried to pick up all the lessons that would help him.

Many of the stories were long and the messages oblique; whenever the end result was that Odin had screwed something up somehow, Frigga had to approach that fact with great subtlety and leave Loki to make the last leap of logic himself.

He wanted to roll his eyes sometimes.  Did she think he wouldn’t know what it meant when she said “unfortunately _we_ decided” or “ _we_ didn’t realize”?  Still.  He got what information he needed, got her help in figuring out accommodations and invitation lists and menus.

And he ran _everything_ by Helblindi.  “I know it must seem like I’m being lazy in asking you to help plan your own welcome feast,” he said, “But I’d rather do that than inadvertently offend you and your people.  If there is any ceremony you need to, to bless the meal, or, I don’t know, any item you can’t eat, anything of that nature, I need to know about it now – and I have no way of knowing but to ask.”

“We are a very simple people,” Helblindi teased in answer.  _We are a very complicated people_ was what he said whenever Loki couldn’t quite grasp some Jotun custom or another.  “All we ask is that you feed us, allow us cold – and do not murder us beneath your roof.”

Loki was not yet ready to tease about that (and refused to entertain the possibility that Helblindi was not teasing).  Instead he made a proper Jotun promise of protection.  “I would hold my hand in fire before I let harm come to you and yours,” he said.  He hoped – _hoped_ – it would not come to that, because he wasn’t entirely sure he was lying.

**************************************

While Loki was busy with that, Thor was left with the much more difficult task of playing ambassador to the Aesir themselves.

He let Sif and the Warriors in on his plan, and then brought it up at a small gathering of a few of his lesser lieutenants.  They had come together for someone’s birthday, and once they had become jolly but not yet become drunk, Thor mentioned the upcoming visit.

“Liar,” someone laughed at once.  “We’re not so far gone that we’d believe that, Thor.  Wait a few more rounds and try again later.”

“I am serious.”  But he kept a smile on; if he started to _look_ serious then they might become more agitated.  “Loki is actually in Jotunheim right now – he has been journeying back and forth almost daily, working on the preparations.”

“Loki?”  Someone else – less friendly.  “You’d trust that slippery little worm to consort with the enemy?”

Thor banged his glass down.  “Watch that,” he growled.  “That _slippery little worm_ is my brother, and truer than you know.”  A ducked head, mumbled apologies, and he relaxed a little. 

“I think Loki is the _perfect_ envoy to send to the frost-giants,” Sif put in.  It sounded, to Thor’s ear at least, unrehearsed.  “If anyone can convince them to fight _with_ us rather than _against_ it’s him.  He could convince a stone to fly if he put his mind to it.  He might even be able to convince _you_ to take a bath.”

There was laughter.  Before Thor could go on with the script they had planned, Fandral got involved.  “For what it’s worth, I agree.”  Thor looked at him in surprise; this really _was_ unrehearsed.  “Loki’s best suited of anyone in Asgard to deal with foreigners.  He’s lived as a stranger among us all his life.” 

Thor had not seen that coming.  “That is- no he has not!” he sputtered.  “Loki is one of us.  How dare you imply otherwise!”

“All due respect, Thor, but Loki is not  _one of us_ ,” someone said.  “We’ve done everything in our power to make him, but he doesn’t fight and frolic like a normal person.”

“I- He _tries_ to-…” Thor fell silent. 

Fandral laughed and clapped him on the back.  “Oh, shut it – he does not!  Your brother is a master of lies and of magic.  Do you really think he couldn’t fool this crowd if he put his mind to it?”  He gestured expansively at the table, most of which whistled and hollered agreement.  “Loki doesn’t _want_ to be like the rest of us.”

“Aye, and so what?”  Volstagg snorted.  “We've grown used to him just as he is: strange.”

Laughter and cheers ensued.  Thor heard good humor and no malice, so he nodded agreement.  “Well, there you have it.  My _strange_ brother will bridge the gap between us and a people even stranger than he is.  I think he’ll do well.”

“He will.”  Sif again – back on script.  “Thor, whenever there’s a custom or rule or meal you don’t like, you always have it changed.  But Loki…”

“Is used to not getting his own way,” Volstagg finished.  “He won’t raise a stink – he’ll eat whatever frozen mess the Jotuns put on his plate and he’ll bow to their strange gods and they’ll think him the politest Asgardian ever to grace their halls.  Or caves.  Or whatever.”

“And he won’t be swinging a hammer at them,” another man added, “Which makes him a better choice of envoy than _you_ , Thor.”

Sif gave him a nod that looked quite satisfied.  They were almost finished.  “So: if he _does_ manage to make friends and get a couple of ambassadors over,” Thor said, “We are all going to host them with gracious politeness.  No murders.  No insults.”  He turned to one of the warriors at random.  “And no gaping at them like peasants on our first trip to the capital, hm?  That stupid look you wear?  Wipe it off when the Jotuns come.  Understand?”

They all turned on the one he’d singled out, teasing him, calling him an ox and a fish and any other dumb-looking animal they could think of.  Thor ordered them all another round.  While most of them drank (and Fandral groped up the barmaid), Hogun sidled up and gave what might almost qualify as a smile.  “Well done,” he said.

From him that was practically epic poetry.  Thor treated himself to a smirk and another drink.


	20. Chapter 20

It was the night before, and Loki couldn't sleep.

He wasn't  _nervous,_  exactly. He knew everything should be fine. And yet.

Tomorrow, Jotuns were coming. Not just sneaking in to be murdered or to meet Thor, but actually  _coming,_  for a visit. They were going to be introduced to Asgard at large, and Asgard at large hated them. Anything might happen.

Thor, of course, was not losing any sleep. This was probably due to the fact that Loki had spelled him into a very deep slumber – again. It was the best way to have privacy to read or write or even just pace restlessly.  _What's the problem, brother,_  Thor would say otherwise.  _Are you having trouble sleeping? I will stay awake with you, if you like._

He  _didn't_  like. He didn't like Thor to know anything about his troubles at all, so most nights he went the easy route and just magicked his brother to sleep after a few minutes of lying side by side talking in the dark. (He didn't do it  _immediately_ , because he really did enjoy those few minutes. He and Thor still hadn't quite mastered the art of closeness in the daytime.)

It occurred to him suddenly that maybe it was not fair to criticize Thor for being too carefree and not worrying enough, since it was his own decision to rob Thor of the prime worrying hours night after night.

Still. Thor was asleep now, and he was feeling restless, and pacing the bedroom was just not enough. He did want company. Thor was asleep and most of Asgard didn't understand enough about the situation to talk intelligently about it. Might Helblindi be still awake? He didn't seem to sleep much.

Having learnt his lesson about leaving notes where Thor wouldn't find them, Loki wrote a few lines explaining that he was finalizing some last-minutes plans with the frost-giants and everything was fine. He stuck the note to the doorknob, so that Thor couldn't possibly leave the room without seeing it, and then slipped off to Jotunheim.

* * *

He resisted the urge to change. Changing back and forth frequently made it more likely that he would lose control, and if he slipped and went blue and growly in front of the court tomorrow there was going to be a massacre.

Not changing meant he was  _freezing_  though, and given that he no longer had access to the Casket it was tiring to warm himself with magic. By the time he got indoors and found his cousin he was exhausted.

At least his cousin was awake, though. And seemingly unsurprised to see him. "Sit, child," Helblindi offered. When Loki went to apologize for bursting in on him so late, he waved it off. "To host you is honor and pleasure as always."

"Thank you, cousin," Loki said – and then frowned. "You know – we didn't talk about what to call one another in front of the Asgardians – I don't want them to realize that we're related."

Helblindi shrugged. "Loki-Prince and Helblindi-King. Titles are no insult between us."

"Well, yes, but…" But it seems cold. But I  _wish_ I could acknowledge you. He couldn't think of a good way to phrase it. "Well, what if we slip up?" he said instead. "If you say  _child_ we can explain it away, say it's customary among the Jotun because you're older than me or something. But  _cousin_  is fairly unambiguous."

"But we are  _not_  cousins _,_  in Asgardian thought." Helblindi flashed a smile.

Right. They could pretend – truthfully! – that the term was merely symbolic, something about creating good relations, something something. He would spin something and get away with it. He told himself he should feel better… but he didn't.

A bit later Helblindi said calmly: "I think you wish to tell me the true cause of your worry."

"Um." Loki pulled his fur tighter around himself. It was disconcerting to have his thoughts guessed at, but he appreciated Helblindi's attention and his ear.

"If people find out what I am at this point it will be disastrous for me," he said. Helblindi was motionless. Already it was more than he had managed to confess outright to anyone, including Frigga (though she had doubtless guessed). He took a deep breath and went on. "Please do your best not to cause any kind of scene and force my hand. If it becomes known I'll lose my home, my family – everything I have."

He realized, too late, that Helblindi might well get insulted and point out:  _You would still have me._

But he did not. Instead he just calmly grew Loki an ice-shard, since Loki was in the wrong form to grow his own, and taught him the proper way to make requests with significance. "Hold this," he said.

Loki held it.

"Say:  _give me your hand._ "

Oh, he saw where this was going. "Give me your hand," he repeated, wincing.

Helblindi opened his hand and waited.

Loki put the blade against his cousin's scarred palm. Without even looking up for confirmation – Jotun rituals did not exactly have a lot of variation – he pressed down and cut. "Sorry about that. But this is very important to me," he said.

Helblindi shook his head. "It needs no words. The blood is enough."

Meaning it was  _assumed_  that he would not have hurt a friend over something trivial. He was… trusted. Trusted, without a single threat or promise.

They watched droplets fall to the snow for a bit, and Helblindi eventually iced the cut over. "I will hear more worries if you have them, child," he said. "If not, I will sleep. You should do the same."

He made a face. "You're right. But I don't want to change tonight, and it's too cold for me here," he said. "I'll have to go home."

"We should keep a cave warmed for your use. Forgive me; I have been a poor host."

Loki caught his arm before he could make a real apology. "Hush; it's my fault for visiting in the wrong form," he said. He noticed much too late that they were skin-to-skin. There was no burn, though – Helblindi was controlling his temperature for him. "Ah-… thanks." He thought the offer of a cave over more carefully, and realized that he actually liked the idea – the dark blue ice of Jotunheim did not make him nervous the way shadows did back at home.

However, this was probably not what Odin meant when he ordered new sleeping arrangements. So, his status being precarious enough already, Loki bowed out of the idea. "Let's worry about the visit for now," he said. "We can get me some kind of lair another time."

* * *

In the morning he came half-awake as Thor got out of bed. He lay still without opening his eyes, hoping to go back for a few hours and waken fully rested.

Then he heard a deep sigh, and that was strange. Thor was not usually given to sighs and sadness. He cracked one eye to see what the problem was, and discovered that Thor was holding the fur he had come home in last night, digging his fingers in.

Ah: it would still be wet. He'd deduced that Loki had visited Jotunheim while he slept, and  _that_ was what he was feeling so tragic about.

Ordinarily Loki would just let it go, but today was not a good time for Thor to be feeling sulky or insulted. He sat up in bed. "Morning, brother."

Thor dropped the fur at once and attempted to wipe the guilty look off his face. (He was getting better at that actually, but it still needed work.) "Good morning, Loki. Did you sleep well?"

"Well, but not enough." Loki settled back down on his back. No point hiding what Thor already knew. "I was up late going over things with Helblindi again."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Thor straighten up. "Oh – you went to Jotunheim?" Trying to sound casual.

"Mmm. He doesn't seem to think there's anything to worry about."

"Because there is  _not._ " Thor came back over and sat on the bed. "Please believe me, brother. I will not allow Asgardians to behave badly.  _Father_ will not allow it."

Loki had his own views about what Father was hoping to achieve here, but he kept them to himself. Thor had come a long way from the time when he venerated Odin blindly, but he would still defend with his last breath the proposition that Odin had everyone's best interests at heart.

"I know." He wasn't getting back to sleep now, that was certain. So, he got up and magicked himself into clothes. "Take the morning for yourself," he suggested. "This afternoon we'll run around checking that everything is in order, and then the frost-giants will come just before dinnertime. The plan is for them to present themselves to the court in the great hall, and then I'll show them their rooms, and then they'll come to the dinner. Got it?"

"Yes, I think so. Perhaps. But you've only told me forty times or so this week, so it's possible I may forget."

Loki elbowed him in the belly as he went past, and Thor took it with a laugh. "Everything is going to be  _fine_ , Loki."

* * *

The giants came right on schedule, through the portal Heimdall opened for them, and were led into the great hall by servants. After some debate it had been decided that Loki should not bring them in himself; the image of him leading a troop of frost-giants into the throne room (even a small troop; there would only be Helblindi and four others) would not do much for his reputation.

So, he stood beside Thor's chair up on the dais. Thor, for today, had been relegated to the  _Queen's Chair_  – the smaller throne that was usually Loki's. The grander throne was occupied today by the Allfather. Frigga stood at his shoulder, looking over to exchange smiles with Loki from time to time.

When the huge doors opened and the frost-giants strode in, a low collective murmur went up. Loki's hand was on Thor's shoulder, and he tensed up so hard with nerves that Thor reached up to swat at it.

Helblindi was in front, with two pairs of giants walking behind him. He came up the center aisle without even turning to look at the assembled audience, and stopped at the foot of the stairs. He bowed, and then gestured over his shoulder. Instantly, his people all dropped to a knee and saluted. It was impressive, showy... and if there were any way to make the Asgardians even more apprehensive, he had just found it.

"Thor-King," he rumbled.

"Helblindi-King." Thor's voice carried almost just as well. "It's good to see you, my friend. Rise – and introduce your men to me."

Helblindi straightened, with a flash of teeth that Loki recognized as a smile. He hoped Thor did as well. "At my right shoulder stands Angrboda – a female."

Thor did a remarkable job of keeping a straight face as he looked the enormous hulking giant up and down. "Forgive me, my lady. Your prodigious strength deceived me; in Asgard our women are generally not as strong as our men." There was a very angry throat-clearing from the stairs, and Thor winced. "Though there are exceptions, as the Lady Sif will be quick to point out."

Angrboda did not seem upset to be mistaken for a man – at least as far as Loki could tell. Her face was rather expressionless, even for a Jotun. Thor quickly passed on to the next one. "And behind her stands...?"

"Gymir," the giant answered for himself. "You know me, Thor-King. You once bound my wound."

Thor brightened. "Yes! I did. I'm glad to see you are well. And you?"

The giant to Helblindi's left let out a growl. "I am Hugi, Thor-King, and I am known to you as well. You once hit me with your hammer, when you warred on our realm."

Helblindi had brought a warrior with a grudge? Was he insane? Loki tried to throw a  _look_ at him but Helblindi seemed completely oblivious.

Thor, too, seemed at a loss – surely he knew better than to  _apologize_ , to take the side of a Jotun in public? But what else was he going to say?

Fortunately, it turned out the giant was not fishing for an apology. "The blow was well-struck," Hugi went on. "It was an honor to stand against you."

"Er. I'm glad?" Thor hazarded. "Though of course I hope it's an honor you will not seek again."

Loki knew enough to realize the giants would think that comment strange – might even get offended by it. Fortunately Helblindi moved the introductions along. "Who stands behind Hugi bears a name we cannot render into the All-tongue," he declared. "He begs you call him instead by  _Bonechewer._ "

Thor blinked. "B-... Bonechewer...?"

The Jotun nodded. "I had thought of calling myself  _Blossom,_ " it rumbled. "But it did not seem to fit."

Wonderful – fucking wonderful. Helblindi had found the  _one_ frost-giant in all the realm with a sense of humor, and had brought him to disrespect Asgard's king in his own court.

But Thor was not at all offended. "Bonechewer it is, then," he said – laughing. "I am honored to make your acquaintance. Helblindi, Loki will conduct you all to your rooms so that you may relax and refresh yourselves after your journey. We will meet again at dinner."

* * *

As soon as he'd led the Jotuns from the hall Loki shoved at his cousin. "Bonechewer? Really? You did that for no reason – I've  _seen_ language that can't be rendered into the All-tongue and yours isn't it!"

"I lied." Helblindi shrugged. "I feared his true name might raise questions."

Loki waited, but no continuation was forthcoming. Right: Jotuns didn't chat. "Might raise questions because...?" he prompted at last.

"Because he was named after Laufey-king's stolen son." He turned to Loki and added: "It is as I told you, child: you were missed and grieved for."

Loki wasn't sure what to say. He looked away from Helblindi and accidentally made eye contact with Angrboda instead (and recognized her! He really was learning to tell one Jotun from another).

Her eyes narrowed. "What is this?" She reached out and poked him in the cheek.

"What?" When he touched himself, his face was warm. "Oh." Helblindi had made him blush like a maiden just by being  _nice_ to him. How embarrassing. "That's-, that's nothing," he stammered. "The Aesir... just turn colors sometimes. Once they start drinking tonight you'll be seeing a lot of it."

He rejected the thought that tonight was likely to turn into a huge disaster, and swept ahead. He knew his guests felt more comfortable with silence but he felt awkward and preferred to babble. "Almost there. It's just down this corridor. I thought the formal guest wing was a little too far from Thor and me, and not that I expect trouble but I think it's best for us to be on hand just in case. We'll use some of Thor's own guest rooms instead. They're very comfortable; once we ice them I'm sure you'll be pleased."

He opened the largest chamber first. "Helblindi, this is yours. I can take-"

" _Oh._ " One of the males – Gymir? – pushed past him and tiled his head back. "Never have I seen a chamber of this like."

_One of a hundred,_  he could have said. Instead he just shrugged. "Oh, the Allfather's family likes to do things in style. Will you all want to stay together, or should I show some of you to the room next door?"

Helblindi shook his head. "We will stay together. For perhaps the same reason you have placed us near to the chamber where Thor-King sleeps."

Loki frowned. "Nobody will bother you," he said, and tried to believe it. "Now let's ice this place over so that it's nice and cool by the time you want it."

While they worked (he, Helblindi, and Angrboda; the others had little talent for icing large areas) he tried to think of a graceful way of inviting himself to spend the night in this room as well.  _Not_ that he thought anyone would dare disturb the giants while they slept. Surely. It would just be… a precaution. In an  _excess_ of caution.

He couldn't find any good way of proposing it, though, so he decided to play it by ear as bedtime approached. Perhaps one of the giants would get so drunk he needed to be carried home. Perhaps Thor would invite a girl over. Perhaps the freezing spells would start to weaken without a sorcerer close to hand.

He would think of something. When the ice was complete he took a moment to bask in the glorious coolness (and pushed away the thought of how much  _nicer_ it would be if his room were always this temperature) and led the giants to dinner.

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

Movies » Thor »  **Rehabilitation**  
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|  Author: YIWT | 1\. Chapter 1 - beginning of Rehabilitation2. Chapter 23. Chapter 34. Chapter 45. Chapter 56. Chapter 67. Chapter 78. Chapter 89. Chapter 910. Chapter 1011. Chapter 1112. Chapter 1213. Chapter 1314. Chapter 14 - end of the dungeon scenes15. Chapter 1516. Chapter 1617. Chapter 1718. Chapter 1819. Chapter 1920. Chapter 2021. Chapter 21 - end of Rehabilitation22. Thor's Queen & Helblindi23. Family - Chapter 124. Family - Chapter 225. Family - Chapter 326. Family - Chapter 427. Family - Chapter 528. Family - Chapter 629. Family - Chapter 730. Family - Chapter 831. Family - Chapter 932. Family - Chapter 1033. Family - Chapter 1134. Family - Chapter 1235. Family - Chapter 1336. Family - Chapter 1437. Family - Chapter 1538. Family - Chapter 1639. Family - Chapter 1740. Family - Chapter 1841. Family - Chapter 1942. Family - Chapter 2043. Family - Chapter 21  
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| Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/General - Reviews: 684 - Published: 05-21-12 - Updated: 01-13-14 | id:8139229  
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A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience! I've had this like 90% done since November, but then got sidetracked by Thor2. Sigh.

* * *

The frost-giants were divided between the two most important tables: Angrboda and Helblindi sat at the high table with the royal family, while the others sat nearby with Thor's friends and some other honored guests. Loki was trying to keep an eye on all the conversations at once – most especially Sif's, because she was drinking and the last thing anyone needed was for her to provoke a fight.

Strangely, the first person to offend a giant was-

"Frigga-Queen! That is  _insult._ " Helblindi's voice carried, as ever. Insult? Uh-oh. Loki tuned in at once, and tried to replay what he'd last heard Frigga say.

_Do you have children, Angrboda?_

He meant to step in and smooth things over somehow, but Frigga beat him to it. "I meant no offense, Lady," she assured, and gracefully mimed a cut of apology. "Here, children are a mother's greatest pride and it is her joy to speak of them. Is it not so with you?"

Angrboda blinked. "No. In Jotunheim it is great shame to have borne a child."

Loki had never heard  _that_  before. He leaned a little closer. "That can't be good for your population count."

"Children are borne," Helblindi explained to the table at large, "But never by our best, our most needed females. A burdened female cannot fight or hunt; she is useless for a year. We cannot spare Angrboda for that long."

Loki  _tsk_ ed at him. "Don't say  _useless_. Smashing things by main force isn't everything; what about your magic?"

Angrboda's lip curled. "Spellcasting is a poor substitute for strength."

It wasn't worth arguing. Loki let the comment roll off him; he'd heard some variant of it so many times it was by now almost painless.

Incredibly,  _Thor_  spoke up. "I must disagree, Lady," he said firmly. "Our prince Loki is a sorcerer, and he's shown his magic to be powerful as both tool and weapon."

_Our_ prince Loki. With a little more vehemence than necessary.

The giant just shrugged and moved on. "And, absent dire necessity the burdened prefer not to spellcast," she added. "It drains the child's magic. Perhaps for life."

Interesting: in Jotunheim it was only the children of the desperate (or of the inconsiderate) who could  _not_ use magic.

As he mused about that, Loki realized suddenly _:_ "I've visited many times now, but I don't think I've ever seen any of your, er, burdened females."

"There were more before the Bifrost struck."

That was a bucket of cold water, all right. Loki took a minute to regroup.

"But even then there were not many," Angrboda went on in the silence. "We can only support a few at a time."

" _Could,_ " Frigga corrected gently. "You  _could_ only support a few at a time. But now that you have the Casket, surely things will be better. Yours is a harsh land, but surely some of your hardships will be lifted."

Angrboda was as impassive as ever, but the rest of the table seemed to have had its mood improved a bit.

* * *

The fact that Jotun females were reluctant to mate might help explain the giants' slavering over Sif. She was used to it, and from what he could see she was taking it with good humor, but Loki still thought it might be wise to check in.

So, at the next course change, he stood. "I'm going to be a good host and visit our guests at the other table," he said. "Make sure Volstagg hasn't eaten any of them."

He saw Odin's eye flicker, glancing suspiciously at the far table and then up into Loki's face... but he stood unflinching because he knew he wasn't actually doing anything wrong. "With your permission. Thor, Allfather." He ducked his head to each of them in turn.

"Do as you wish, brother," Thor said easily. "I want everyone to feel at home."

Frigga was looking at him with open disapproval:  _Why do you bait him?_ , but he ignored it and waited to see what Odin would say.

"Of course,  _my son._ "

My son. Of course. As he crossed over to the other table he took a moment to file away what he had just learned about his parents. (His  _real_ parents.) His mother had not needed to use any magic while she carried him, apparently – Laufey must have taken good care of her. Which made sense; she was a queen.

Or was she? He knew the Jotun did not pair-bond the way the Aesir did. For all he knew his mother had slept with Laufey once and then never seen him again. Hm.

Then he was at the table and he had no more time to think, so he shelved it to ask Helblindi about later. "Beg pardon," he said, tapping Sif on the shoulder. " _Our king_  has requested your presence; apparently the poor fool can't live without you for even the space of one meal."

She rolled her eyes and got up. Told the giants it had been a pleasure to talk to them.

"We are sorry to see you go," Hugi told her.

Bonechewer flashed teeth. "Though we will enjoy the watching of it."

She put both hands on the table and leaned over it. "I'd watch  _yourself_ , my friend." Loki knew her well enough to hear that she was amused. "There's more than a few warriors in this hall who can attest that I'm not an easy fight."

So did Bonechewer, apparently. "I would be honored to bear your scars." He raised his hand and grew her a flower of ice.

Loki would have expected her to drop it in his beer, but instead she took it – with a smile.

When she turned from the table, though, she grew serious. "What do you want, Loki? Thor didn't ask for me."

"No." He lowered his voice until she had to lean close to make him out. "I just thought it polite to warn you that there's apparently a severe shortage of mating females in Jotunheim. These giants may be teasing you... or they may be desperate. I thought you'd appreciate the warning to flirt with care."

Sif snorted. "I'm not worried. You are  _all_ desperate. All men, of all races, at all times. Desperate." She was slurring a little, but not yet drunk enough for him to worry.

"Let me help you with your flower," he said, ignoring the temptation to try flirting with her himself. He touched it with magic, protecting it so that it would stay a little longer before starting to melt. "Go take my seat. And see if you can cheer up Angrboda somehow; she's depressing everyone."

"Fine. You take this table." Drunk as she was, Sif was still a competent socializer. "Bonechewer's doing great, but Hugi is too quiet and he's not making any friends."

"I'll fix it."

" _Our_  men are doing all right. There are a few who aren't happy, but I've been putting them in their place and no one's dared get openly hostile."

"Thor did a good job preparing them," Loki agreed. The compliment came to him easily – too easily. He scowled and reminded himself that Thor got more than enough compliments already. Today's success – if it was a success – was  _his_ triumph and his alone.

* * *

After dinner, the drinking continued. The seating changed around and people mingled more freely, and Loki darted from place to place checking that the giants were all getting along.

He noticed that Sif and Angrboda were the center of a lot of attention, and slipped closer to make sure it was all friendly.

"Oh,  _ignore_ him," Sif was saying with a great deal of eye-rolling. "In my experience it's a rare man even makes himself worth the trouble – and _no_ man, ever, has been as impressive as he thinks he is."

Angrboda's red eyes moved over all the men at the table, and fell at last on-  _Oh, fuck no._ "How impressive is Loki-Prince?"

Titters from all sides. For a second Loki just  _knew_ that Sif would wrinkle her nose and laugh that of  _course_ she'd never been with Loki; she had her pick of the men up to and including Thor, so what need had she of-

"Ahem," he said, before she could think how best to insult him. "Angrboda, ladies tend not to ask such questions so directly here. Oh-! And Sif, your glass is empty. Shockingly enough."

He ordered her away with a gesture, and for once in her life she actually  _obeyed_ him. "Oh all  _right_ ," she huffed, and rose unsteadily to her feet. "I'll go get another." She gave Angrboda a friendly clap on the shoulder. "The saga of Loki's prowess in bed will have to wait until another time. It's a very  _long_  story..."

Hoots all around. He rolled his eyes.

"...Though maybe not  _quite_  as long as one or two other, um, stories I could mention... You know who you are, no need to smirk... out of my way; I need more drink. Move. Get. Shoo."

Loki would have taken a moment to worry about whether she was going to drunkenly get into trouble, but first he had to make sure Angrboda was all right to make conversation on her own. He helped guide as quickly as he could, but by the time talk had turned to the safe topic of the use of projectile weapons in blizzard winds, Sif was long gone.

* * *

The revelry began winding down – still without any major incidents. Despite explicit orders several giants cut themselves over minor missteps in conversation, but fortunately Thor had already explained the custom to people and no one became too alarmed. Angrboda showed a worrying level of interest in the revelation that the Aesir had reliable contraception methods and could mate for pleasure (he was going to  _kill_  Sif for talking to her), but after some uncomfortable sniffing of necks she had come to the conclusion that the Aesir did not much interest her anyway. Gymir and Hugi, at least, scrupulously obeyed Loki's orders to leave the Asgardian women alone, and though Bonechewer flirted relentlessly with Sif, she did not seem to mind and rejected any warriors' efforts to come between them.

Odin and Frigga had sat with Helblindi for a while, talking and smiling, and Loki had a good idea who they were probably talking about. That set him on edge, but when he caught Odin's eye he saw that Odin was just as uncomfortable as he was.  _Good._

He wondered briefly whether Odin realized that Helblindi was the one he had to thank for his eyepatch.

_Loki._  He heard the voice clearly – Odin, speaking into his head.  _The night has been a success, and you have done all you set out to. Do not push your luck._

He didn't have such ability himself (and he wouldn't want to be in Odin's mind anyway!), so he pointed up at the ceiling and then used his magic to write words there.  _Shall we conclude the party now?_ He waited a moment for Odin to read, then erased them.

_Yes. Your mother agrees._

His mother. Coming from Odin he couldn't let it stand.  _I trust Frigga's judgment,_  he wrote.  _I'll talk to Thor._

An annoyed sigh echoed through his mind, and he thought he'd have to practice blocking such intrusion in the future. Then he went to find Thor, and had him officially announce that the party was at an end.

* * *

When Loki said he planned on staying in the giants' room with them, Thor protested, on a variety of ridiculous pretexts. At first it was irritating – how was it any of Thor's business where he chose to spend his nights! – but then he remembered Sif explaining that Thor was  _jealous_  and then it started to feel flattering instead.

"They are in a strange place and they're alone," he said severely. "If  _I_  didn't offer, you would."

It was probably true, and Thor scowled at the floor and finally said all right. "But... you will call for me if you need anything? If the guests need anything? Or if anything is amiss..."

"Everything will be fine, Thor. Go to sleep."

He sent Thor away, locked the gloriously cool iced-over bedroom, and changed forms. The giants became lethargic before long; they were unaccustomed to eating and drinking to such excess. Loki helped them get settled – and chose a sleeping-spot for himself as far from Angrboda as possible, just in case.

Helblindi got up and, without a word, situated himself between Loki and the door. "Sleep in safety, child."

Loki reminded himself not to feel touched; the phrase was a routine Jotun pleasantry. "Sleep in safety, cousin. All of you," he added. He, personally, was not feeling the least bit sleepy. He stared up at the ceiling and listened as the giants started dozing off.

One set of snores. Then two. Then another… and a mumbler… and finally some  _loud_  snores (were those sounds really coming from a female?) , and he sighed aloud because how was he ever going to get to sleep like this.

Eventually he almost managed – but not for long. Footsteps woke him before he'd even started dreaming properly, and he knew someone was prowling outside the Jotuns' room.

He listened, but could hear only movement. Nothing that would tell him who was out there or what they wanted.

Still. Anyone who felt they had to  _creep_ around the palace did not represent a threat to Prince Loki of Asgard, especially not when he had his Jotun friends at hand and Thor right down the hall. So, there was no reason not to investigate himself. He rose quietly, crept around the huddle without stepping on anyone, and put his eye to the keyhole.

The intruder was none other than Thor – alone – so he went outside. "I beg your pardon, my f-" Thor said, and then looked a little closer. "Loki?"

He nodded. The hallway was deserted, but he supposed that if he didn't want to be seen this way – and he  _didn't_  – it was best not to take chances. He folded himself back into his Aesir form and conjured some clothes. "Why are you here?"

"I could not sleep."

He was holding something back, Loki could tell, but he knew Thor never kept secrets. All he had to do was wait a few minutes, and out it would come.

"Loki…"

Sure enough.

Thor took a deep breath. "Have you been enchanting me, brother? At night?"

"Of course not," he lied at once. "Never without your knowledge. I wouldn't."

" _Never_?" Thor pressed.

Loki swallowed.  _Fuck,_  there was that hesitation again. He absolutely  _had_ to recover his ability to lie in the face of challenge. In the meantime, though, he thought fast for a way to handle this – Thor would go berserk if he knew how much magic had actually been cast on him. "Well… there was once or twice," he began. He didn't have to fake being hesitant and uncomfortable, and he knew Thor usually took that to mean he was being truthful, so that was good at least. "Soon after you-… after your return. You woke screaming. Horrible nightmares, it looked like. I soothed you with magic, but I didn't want to tell you, because..." He groped for the explanation least likely to provoke a tantrum. "…It seemed so important to you to get well. I didn't think you would enjoy knowing that your mind was not recovering as quickly as you would like."

Thor was quiet for a long time. Then he heaved a sigh. "That's a lie, isn't it."

He went cold.

"You didn't tell me because you thought I'd be  _angry_. Didn't you."

What? "Y…es?" It seemed like the right answer.

"Well, you're right, I am. I  _am_  angry, and Loki: notice what I am  _not_  doing. Have not done."

Loki shook his head, blank.

"Though you are  _sorely_  tempting me." Thor heaved an even bigger sigh, and explained himself. "I haven't throttled you, or bloodied your nose, or even raised my voice to you –  _and I haven't in a long time._  I've apologized for how I used to manhandle you and I've stopped doing it. Are you going to persist in treating me like a beast on the rampage  _forever_?"

Loki blinked.  _That_  was what Thor was concerned about?

(It was good to know that he'd gotten away with the bulk of the fabrication, though. Thor had no idea he was sleeping under a spell almost every other night.)

"You asked not to be enchanted, and I enchanted you," he reminded. "Odin's given me very little reason to trust in the leniency of the king, so-"

"I am not Odin."

_Thank goodness. Or you would not be so easily distracted._  "I know. I know, and… I am trying. Forgive me. I should have just told you, and braved your displeasure."

Thor snorted. "No, you should have  _not spelled me in the first place._ "

Loki felt a sudden overpowering urge to cut himself in the Jotun fashion. If he'd harbored the slightest hope that Thor would understand, he would have.

"What?" Thor said. "What's the matter with your hand?"

"Hm?" He looked down and realized that he was clenching and releasing it absently. "Oh, nothing. I was just…" Reflexively, he almost invented something. But lying uncontrollably was not a wise habit to get into either, so he thought a moment and then told the truth. "I was just thinking of the Jotun apology cuts," he admitted. "How much sense they make. You're sorry, you're forgiven, the thing is over and done with."

"They don't make sense between  _us._ " Thor gave him a sideways look and a small smile. "We would bleed to death."

Loki had to laugh. "We do often have a lot to apologize for."

They sat in silence for a bit, and at last Thor yawned. "I suppose I should go back to bed," he said – but did not get up.

Perhaps because he was tired himself, it took Loki a moment to understand. "Oh-. Did you dream tonight?"

"I… don't know. I might have."

Lying, obviously. But all Loki said was: "Do you want me to come back with you?"

Thor shrugged.  _Yes,_ that meant,  _But I'm embarrassed to ask._

Loki sighed and nudged him up. "All right, let's go. Helblindi knows I often get up and wander at night; he won't worry."

As they started down the hall together, Thor muttered: "Oh, it's all right for the  _frost-giant_  to worry over you…"

It was only about half playful, and Loki found himself bristling a little. "As a child Helblindi put out the Allfather's eye in an effort to prevent my kidnapping," he said calmly, without even looking in Thor's direction. "I think he's earned the right to act the protector if he wants."

Thor tripped over nothing, but got himself together quickly. When he spoke his voice was steady. "Father always told us that he traded his eye for a piece of wisdom."

"Yes. Perhaps it was:  _never underestimate a Jotun cub with a blade._ " He laughed a little. "Or perhaps:  _Loki will bring nothing but trouble._ "

"Perhaps," said Odin, from right beside him. Loki yelped and careened into Thor, who made a much more respectable noise of manly surprise. "Or perhaps I learned that fraternal love brings out the best and bravest in a child. Oh, for goodness' sake! Did you think you were the only one who prowls the halls unseen?"

Loki was trying to catch his breath. He would not break down in panic in front of the Allfather. If it  _killed_ him, he would not.

_Focus, Loki. Breathe. In… out._  He ran all the scripts in his head, every scrap of help the damned Drones had given him, and eventually managed to coax himself back to lucidity.

Thor, he noticed then, was gripping him hard, under the arm, as if to keep him from falling. "I'm fine," he said, and shook free. "Just startled is all." He resumed walking. So did Thor – and Odin.

The Allfather acted as if the interruption had never happened. "At the time I was simply impressed by the boy's bravery," he went on. "But later, it occurred to me to hope that my own son would have done the same in his position."

"I would," Thor said firmly.

"You would," Odin agreed, " _Now._  Now that you have come to love Loki as a brother. But if I had raised you on your own, caring for no one but yourself…"

He let the sentence trail away, and a wave of hate made Loki finish it for him. "…He would have become even more of a selfish ass than he is already, and I would be at home with my family. Oh- sorry," he corrected himself, "I meant: I would be left in a frozen wasteland with the savages from whom you saved me. Of course."

"Loki."

Odin's tone was calm and lecturing, but Loki didn't want to hear it; he was fully certain his grievance was legitimate. "Can you not  _once,_ " he hissed, "Just  _once,_ just for a  _moment,_  pretend that it was  _me_ you wanted – that everything wasn't always about Thor?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Odin was still quiet. "Of course it was about Thor when I took you; I've explained what I wanted. You don't imagine that I picked up a squalling little alien – the offspring of my enemy, no less – and felt love for it at once? No. Affection came with time."

"Did it?" With as much scorn as he could muster.

"Yes, it did."

He didn't have anything else to say.  _Squalling little alien. Enemy._ That was unpleasant to hear, but it was… true.

_And Odin does so value truth._

"Go after your brother," Odin said into the silence, and only then did Loki notice that Thor had gone. "And if I were you I would apologize. _Selfish ass_  is not fair for him. Not anymore."

* * *

He caught up with Thor not far from where they had first met – sitting on a bench near the giants' room. Hunched over, elbows on his knees. He looked… weary.

"I didn't mean for you to hear that."

Thor looked up. "I was standing right next to you."

"Yes, well… I wasn't thinking."

Thor scowled to have his own favorite excuse repeated back to him. "I notice you haven't retracted your words."

He thought it over, but not for too long, because Thor was waiting for an answer and too much thinking would look like lies. "What I said, I said in anger," he said carefully. "There was truth to it in the past, yes. But… there is less now. I know things have changed."

An uncomfortable silence fell. "Your hand again," Thor pointed out after a moment. "Stop fidgeting. You needn't bleed yourself for my sake." He stopped fidgeting. "Will you come back to my room?"

"Father said…"

Thor made a rude gesture – and then three others in quick succession. " _That_ is my opinion of what Father said," he declared. "It is no business of his where we choose to sleep. Until he takes the crown back from me, anyway, I am king." He glared around the hall, defiant. Obviously hoping that Odin was lurking invisible again.

Loki nodded. "I'll come."

"And… will you spell me to sleep again? I lied before: I know perfectly well that I did have dreams."

"Of course. And I'm proud of you for the lie, brother. I almost believed it."

They got back to Thor's room and settled in the big bed. "See you in the morning," Loki said, and cast. The snoring was instant and copious, so he rolled his eyes and worked something to dampen sound in the room. He fell asleep almost at once in the thick, cozy quiet.

The next thing he knew was awakening to the crash of the door being blown off its hinges. Odin stood in the doorway – fully armored.

* * *

TBC.

Again, 1000 apologies for the delay. I hope everybody had nice holidays and I'm planning to update soon! There are only I believe 2 more chapters. (Or maybe 1, if I make it a super monster size chapter, or 3 if I make them really little.)

 


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